#Turning off reblogs on this one. Might come back to it and turn them on but I have to think about it first

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Let's Make a Deal

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this and this and this

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: desperate times bring you to desperate measures.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Is it self-pity or self-loathing that has your skin crawling? You can’t quite discern between the emotions rotting in your stomach. All you know, is you can’t stand yourself. 

You’re here and you’re not turning back now. You might not have a choice but it’s still a choice. This is what you’ve resorted to. You shudder as you stand at the door of the townhouse. You stare at the doorbell above the little speaker box and every doubt rattles in your head. 

‘Seeking companionship. Women without prior experience preferred’. 

You always laughed at the desperate, if not trollish, postings. How ridiculous. You always just scrolled on by, assuming them to be no more than a pathetic attempt at phishing. And if they were real, well, that’s even more pathetic. 

Even standing there, you can’t be sure it isn’t some scheme. Yeah, you emailed the man behind the ad. You even spoke on the phone. Several times. Trying to be sure but you’re still not. 

No one else knows you’re there. You’re too embarrassed for that. It’s foolish too. You could be murdered and no one would know. You’re trying not to think of that. You focus instead on what you stand to gain. 

You reach and press the button before common sense gets the best of you. As you wait, you look down at yourself. It’s just what he wanted. ‘Wear a red dress. That way I know it’s really you’. You grit back another wave of disgust. 

The door opens and you’re not ready. How can you be? It’s the first time you’re seeing him but not the first time he’s seen you. You can’t even hope that he’ll be repulsed. 

You’re silent. Both of you. You gape at him and he stares back. It turns to a leer as his throat bobs and he pushes his shoulders back. He’s bigger than you expect. At least he isn’t the slobbish, greasy man you expected. Not on the outside at least.  

“Hi, sweetie,” it’s the same voice from the call. His name is Steve. “You look...” his eyes skim up and down your figure, “well, I can’t really see. You got this coat on.” 

You force a smile. Your cheeks feel tight. You can’t speak. 

“No need to be nervous,” he grips the door as he holds it open, “hey, why don’t you come inside? You must be freezing out there?” 

You nod and step through the door as he stands back. The warmth feels even more stolid as heat roils within you. You look around the entryway. The subtle ripple of the dark hardwood paneling and the old-style banisters. You feel smaller standing inside. 

“Let me take your coat,” he tugs on the sleeve.  

You don’t stop him. You shrug it off as he strips it away. He turns to hang it in the closet behind the front door and you hug yourself as you take it all in. Not just your surroundings, but your situation. He is a stranger but you’re going to do what you have to do. 

“I like that dress,” he startles you as he comes up next to you. “It’s cute.” 

You glance down. It’s the only red dress you have. It’s not even yours, actually. You borrowed it from a friend and never wore it. 

“Thanks,” you finally find your voice. 

“Mm, you sound sweet,” he rests his hand lightly on your back and you feel like melting as heat radiates off of him. “Let me show you around.” 

You can only nod. Once more, all sound has evaporated from you. You let him lead you into the next room. A living room just as nice as the front hallway. There’s a fireplace and antique fixtures and the furniture is a cozy shade of cream. There’s exposed brick above the mantel as fire burns behind and iron grate. 

You rub your arms, shivering despite the stuffy air. He takes you into the dining room, open to a kitchen with dusty blue counters and deep oak finishes. This place is nice. Big. Much better than the loft you’ve been curled up in for the last two weeks. 

“We can check out upstairs later if you just wanna get settled,” he offers. 

You look at him, cheeks pinching as your throat constricts. He’s tall. His hair is blond but his beard is dark. His shoulders are broad, even beneath his brown jacket, and his grey tee is stretched across his thick chest. You’re entirely outmatched, more than physically. 

“It must be tough. Too bad about the job.” He says. 

You draw away, turning your face down as you crumple in shame. Fired, almost homeless, this is your one way out. He’s nice enough. The place is clean. He is too. But it’s just too much. It can’t be real. 

You did everything right. You graduated high school. Got your degree. All on time. You worked your butt off through both of those yet you could never break through to more than temp work. Now it’s all dried up, just like your contract. They promised you full-time but it never came. 

“Sorry, I know you probably don’t want to talk about that,” he says. 

You shuffle around and go to the mantle. You stare at the flames. You don’t think they’re hot enough to thaw the ice creeping over your heart. This isn’t fair. 

He might be polite, he might be generous, but he’s still some guy looking for a ‘situationship’ on the internet. And you answered. 

You hear him behind you. The floor groans with his weight. You lift your chin and admire the wooden clock on the ledge. You suppose having money can’t help the loneliness. Silence wraps around you, building a shell. 

“Come here,” he says, shaking you from your trance. 

You blink and turn to him slowly. You drop your arms. You push away the chagrin needling your forehead and face him completely. He sits on the couch, legs wide, arm across the back. 

You’re jarred at the sight of him. His chin is down and his eyes are pinpointed on you. You hesitate, fingers fluttering, and make yourself move. One foot, the other, then the first again. 

The glean in his blue eyes chills you. His gaze follows you like an animal. You stop only an inch away. 

“It’s a nice house,” you say. “I don’t mean to be quiet--” 

“I get it. You’re nervous,” he reaches to grab your hand then sits back, tugging you closer. “But you don’t need to play shy.” 

He moves you towards him. He brings his arm off the couch and shifts your hip around as he leads you between his legs. He pushes until you fold, sitting on his leg, teetering on it uneasily. He lets out a gritty hum and urges you to lean against him. 

He curls his arm around your back to keep you in place and brings his other hand up to stroke your cheek. His eyes bore into you. He presses his knuckles to your cheek and brushes his thumb along your lower lip. 

“You’re even more beautiful up close,” he rasps. 

“Thank you,” you utter, lip trembling against his thumb. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he toys with your mouth, tracing it as his fingers dig into your hip. “I can take care of you. You like the place, right? You’ll be comfortable here.” 

“Sure,” you gulp. 

He purrs and pushes his thumb through your lips. You flinch in surprise. He prods at your tongue at he turns his hand to grip your chin, keeping his finger hook in your mouth. 

Your gaze meets his. His eyes search your face as they darken. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer. He shudders in excitement. 

“I always wanted someone like you, sweetie,” he drags his thumb out of your mouth and wipes the moisture down your chin. He tickles along our throat as you shiver. “So pretty, so pure.” He plays with the collar of your dress, trailing along the vee as he gives a hum. “Are you nervous for your first time?” 

You hold back a whimper. Him saying it out loud makes it real. Coming here, walking through this house, sitting on his lap, those should be enough but those worse are more vivid than anything. You blink and nod. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” his hand travels down the front of your dress. “I’ll be gentle... until you can take all of me.” 

[blitzwhore]

Ask game! :D

What, in general, is your favorite fear response in a character:

Fight (physically or verbally attacking whatever is scaring you, or making yourself look bigger/aggressive to scare it away, examples are Blitz in Full Moon in the ballroom and Loona after seeing the Hellbies shot)

Flight (running away from or otherwise trying to remove yourself from a scary situation, examples are Stolas in Full Moon in the hallway and later when he portals Blitz away, as well as Octavia when she hides in LooLooLand)

Freeze (being unable to move or extreme indecisiveness when scared, an example is Moxxie in episode 1 when he can't shoot the picture)

Fawn (trying to appease whoever is scaring you, common in abuse victims, an example is Stolas' text messages about Ozzie's and in episode 2 when Stella is yelling at him)

Or flop (fainting/playing dead when scared)?

Hi! That's a very interesting question. I really love seeing all the different survival responses explored in media, but if I had to choose a favourite, I'd go with fight. It's the one that hits closest to home and the one that I see well represented the least. And, if I may get a little personal, as someone who's endured abuse, it has been the hardest to come to terms with and forgive myself for.

It can be so hard to accept that your fight response didn't make you as bad as the person/people who hurt you. That having a fight response didn't make you any less terrified, any less cornered, any less traumatised. That you behaved like that not because you're horrible, out of control, beyond help, "just as bad", or unlovable, but because you were scared. You were, or felt, so helpless that your safety and very life felt like they were on the line. And that fucks you up, and makes you act in ways you never thought you could, which you then have to live with for the rest of your life.

And it can be especially hard to forgive yourself for having a fight response against people who weren't your abusers. People who came after, and who tried to love you when you were too in survival mode to trust that love. People who didn't deserve you lashing out at them. People who couldn't have known they were going to trigger you, who couldn't have known that your body only had this one strategy to keep itself from getting hurt again. Even if you apologise, explain, make amends, and are forgiven, your fight response (and what it made you do, or want to do) can make you truly hate yourself. It can make you hate yourself as much as you believe others must hate you, because all you see when you look at yourself is your own abuser, and so how could others see anything different?

So yes, I love, love, love it when media explores a character's fight response in a nuanced way—a way that clearly shows there were care and love put into the character's story.

When it comes to the examples you provided, what I love most about Loona's fight response in Western Energy is how understanding Blitz is of her. At every single point in the episode, he prioritises her needs and well-being, shows her compassion and comfort, communicates her needs to the doctor, and always tries to make sure her fear is taken into account and accommodated. I love that he never makes Loona feel like a burden or a bad person for being afraid, and that he loves her unconditionally and unwaveringly through her entire fight response, even after getting beat up. (I also love how funny the whole scene at the doctor's is 😂).

And, in The Full Moon, I love the way Blitz just suddenly... explodes. I find that, sometimes, trauma can make you want to avoid addressing any problems you might have in your relationships (which Blitz clearly has been doing, per his own words) because it's easier to let them fester than have to face them and put yourself in a vulnerable position. But then, when you are forced to face those things and go into fight response, you suddenly burst, and the next second, all your fear and hurt are spilling out of your mouth, as well as every horrible and destructive thought you've ever had about the other person but never wanted them to know about. Your filter completely gone as your emotions pour out, and out, and out.

I also love how the lighting, the sound effects, and Blitz's body language all work together to accentuate every single word he's saying and how much he's hurting as he speaks. I love how raw and ugly and uncomfortable and real it all feels. He's upset. He's angry. He feels wronged. But above all, he's terrified. And the scene does not shy away from just how unpleasant his fight response is. There's no sugar coating. No immediate comfort afterwards. Just real, raw, painful terror and shame and trauma (on both sides, not just Blitz's). It's perfect.

[kiwi-bitchez]

The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill. 

Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting. 

“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.

“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”

“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.

“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”

“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”

“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”

“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives. 

This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.

“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.

“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”

You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells. 

There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way. 

“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”

You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.

When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.

After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.

It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t. 

“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.

Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.” 

“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”

She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this. 

“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand. 

You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin. 

“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”

“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot. 

“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”

“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl. 

“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”

“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend. 

“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.” 

“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him. 

“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.

“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”

“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort. 

Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment. 

“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”

He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity. 

“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”

The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair. 

Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.

“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world. 

When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”

Still no reply.

“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.” 

“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced. 

Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”

“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”

“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head. 

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something. 

“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.

“No.”

“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.

“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”

“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one. 

“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan. 

“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”

“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him. 

“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”

“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve. 

“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”

“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.

This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience. 

After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date. 

After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.

As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too. 

Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory. 

“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”

It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.

“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel. 

“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up. 

On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date. 

“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”

He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest. 

You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation. 

“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question. 

“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”

“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”

“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.

Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.  

“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”

“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”  

“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”

“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes. 

“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious. 

“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”

“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up. 

“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!” 

You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever. 

“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.” 

He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him. 

Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date. 

“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to. 

“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting. 

“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”

The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius. 

“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home. 

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”

“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”

Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n. 

Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into. 

“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”

“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space. 

“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”

“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment. 

“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”

“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”

“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble. 

“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”

“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”

“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”

“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly. 

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks. 

The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch. 

“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”

“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”

“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”

“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”

He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle. 

“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet. 

“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat. 

“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”

‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.

You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.

“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,” 

He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it. 

He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.

As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him. 

“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”

The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it. 

Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.

Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve. 

He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing. 

As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway. 

“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat. 

He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood. 

You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.” 

The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed. 

You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about  getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon. 

Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you. 

But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never. 

You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share. 

“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.  

After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home. 

“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly. 

“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.” 

You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view. 

He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?

On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again. 

He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date. 

Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’. 

You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago. 

“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it. 

“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend. 

The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection. 

“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.

“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”

He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”

To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according  to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.

“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”

Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section. 

After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic. 

Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides. 

You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.

Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you. 

As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos. 

“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure. 

“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.

“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.

“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass. 

“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears. 

Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic. 

“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”

Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches. 

“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.

Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else. 

You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake. 

“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.

“From bugs?”

“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”

“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”

You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.

“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.

“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh. 

“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”

You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.

After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did. 

It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom. 

The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless. 

Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you. 

Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.

What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. 

“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.” 

You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.

“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice. 

“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.

Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.

Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention. 

Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully. 

He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable. 

While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”

“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”

He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down. 

“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means. 

“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”

Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”

As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.

Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.

“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”

“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”

“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.

“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”

“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”

You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid. 

The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’ 

A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else. 

It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak. 

Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.

Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt. 

“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink. 

There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place. 

“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.

“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”

You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise. 

Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.

“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide. 

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.

Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“

“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.

Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.

“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.

He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”

“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question. 

“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”

“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”

A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time. 

“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”

You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts. 

“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”

“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.

“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him. 

He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board. 

“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts. 

As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways. 

“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been. 

“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.

You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder. 

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.

Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since. 

“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say. 

“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.

“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking. 

“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”

“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.

“The real question is,��� he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”

Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you. 

“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago. 

“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be. 

“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”

Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.

“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you. 

It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire. 

“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink. 

“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”

Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions. 

“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss. 

He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.

Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.

He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time. 

“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.

“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.

You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.

He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear. 

Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”

Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink. 

“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole. 

The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.

“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”

Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”

“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”

“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win. 

“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”

“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”

If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in. 

The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.

He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck. 

“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”

Jackpot. 

A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand. 

“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up. 

Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough. 

He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering. 

“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”

Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again. 

“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”

The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin. 

“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.

“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”

You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this. 

His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together. 

Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs. 

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. 

If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.

“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”

He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this. 

Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van. 

“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes. 

“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”

“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”

You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap. 

As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh. 

“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret. 

“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”

You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass. 

“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him. 

You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.

He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.

The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door. 

Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.

You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right. 

And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.

“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding. 

You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.

Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level. 

Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting. 

He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times. 

You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.

You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach. 

All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him. 

The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.

“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips. 

After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon. 

You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.

Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you. 

“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.

He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft. 

“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”

Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants. 

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.” 

“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat. 

“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”

You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it. 

Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him. 

“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”

The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.

Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips. 

“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment. 

Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls. 

You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss. 

In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself. 

“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.” 

He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides. 

You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room. 

Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end. 

“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply. 

It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is. 

Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck. 

“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets. 

“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs. 

In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going. 

The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets. 

He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.

Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch. 

His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips. 

Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees. 

He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you. 

He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most. 

Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder. 

“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.

“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.

“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch. 

His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt. 

“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”

The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls. 

“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair. 

Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter. 

Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other. 

Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.

“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure. 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”

Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head . 

“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“ 

A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core. 

As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit. 

He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face. 

When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants. 

“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate. 

“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds. 

“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked. 

“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.

“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.” 

“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.

He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched. 

“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you. 

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his. 

You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.

“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole. 

“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him. 

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back. 

You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set. 

Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.

“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck. 

“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. 

He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain. 

“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach. 

And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.

His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl��’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.” 

When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line. 

“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”

With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you. 

The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent. 

Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment. 

He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.

Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again. 

“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper. 

“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”

Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose. 

“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means. 

“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”

His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him. 

The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up. 

When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up. 

His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.

Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you. 

You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you. 

You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle. 

You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal. 

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call. 

It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response. 

After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring. 

Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door. 

“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say. 

“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”

“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”

“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did. 

You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say. 

“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson. 

“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”

Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you. 

“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”

“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”

He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“

You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”

“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.

At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart. 

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”

You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”

“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”

“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”

Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties. 

Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom. 

“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.” 

You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy. 

“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”

You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up. 

Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin? 

Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.

At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.

And there he is.

In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.

"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.

"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."

You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.

"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."

He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.

"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."

You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.

"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."

He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.

"And I owe you a few dates, for real."

As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.

"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.

"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.

You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.

[queenendless]

💀🎃👻Spooky Greetings👻🎃💀

A/n: This literally came to mind when I saw something similar in the actual game event. First time posting twst content here. This may get a sequel. Gonna try to post variety spooky content here cause HAPPY OCTOBER YALL!

SPOILERS for the new Halloween game event going on, somewhat. Also, a bit of Skully x fem!reader and implied fem!reader x the twst bois shown/tagged down below. Short Harem drama, kinda. Not much. But I think it ain't half bad.

*DON'T STEAL, COPY, EDIT, REPOST AND TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. REBLOG, LIKE, FOLLOW PLS N THNX.*

“Hello, my lovely~”

The moment this new strapping figure — “Skully J. Graves at your service~” — appeared holding you in his arms as you awoke, you were awestruck at the spooky strapping young man.

After introducing all of yourselves, watching him kiss the hand of your schoolmates was amusing; seeing their appalled expressions. Guessing they don't get that brand of greeting often, huh?

Him kissing Grim's cheek had his fur stand on end to your delight.

And yet?

The moment he took your hand — only to pull you in and kiss you smack dab on the lips?

You felt the fires of envy and hate turn ablaze as the various pairs of eyes glowed outrageously.

Many hands, gloved or not, snatched him off you.

And all hell broke loose.

“Get your grubby hands off my beloved, you cretin!” Riddle turned red even his paled up Gothic aesthetic; Trey holding the struggling boy back in his arms.

“He means MY herbivore, skeletal bastard.” Leona growled in Skully’s face as he grabbed his collar.

“On the contrary, MY angel isn't up for auction when it comes to kisses from mere worms.” Azul's irked smile gave off unpleasantness.

“Oho? That doesn't seem to be the case, surely.” Jade jested to his boss's ire.

“MY jewel’s already doing so, octo pimp. That goes for you too, street rat.” Jamil hissed them both back and forth.

“Have you no manners of consent, you mongrel? Besides, my darling Y/n has better taste than you all. Me, for example.” Vil flaunted in the others irked faces; Epel looked just about done at this point.

“Don't you dare take away my Otaku goddess, you noob!” Idia gripped dramatically to the others nuisance. 

“How dare you lay a finger on my beloved human.” Malleus spoke doom.

The air around them crackled with literal lightning as emerald flames had his hands full.

“My future Queen … prepare yourself … FOR HELL.”

“WAKA-SAMA!” Sebek switched to fanboy mode at his God's might.

“For once, we're on the same page.” Leona's smirk sent his way spoke volumes as he dropped Skully before the dragon prince.

“TSUNATARO, STAND DOWN! ALL OF YOU, PLEASE!” You got in the way to defend the new anime boy from the others' united wrath, especially Malleus's. “One kiss is not that big of a deal.”

You could hear a pin drop now as everyone, even Skully, viewed you as if you had two heads.

“Good grief. Ya sure you're not magical? Cause you're bewitching them into lovestruck fools. And you're not dating any of ‘em. God, you're an idiot.” Grim griped.

Leona, Jamil, and Sebek appeared as glowing eyed phantom monsters ready for the kill. “YOU'RE ONE TO TALK, FUR BALL!!!”

Yet Skully looked unperturbed, his charming toothed smile arised, as Grim got chased by three SSR dressed pissed off mages. “Oya oya … What a lively bunch, you all are. And all because I took a kiss from your sweet lips, lovely Y/n. But if you are single, then may I ask you out?”

“NO!!!” All the former overblot cases now turned bachelors for your token affections shouted in unison.

Trey, Jade and Epel and you hung your head in exasperation.

Ah, quite the Harem dilemma.

Halloween coated, no less.

[veltana]

Breaking point

✦ Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,5k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Dub-con (proceed with caution if this might trigger you), pwp, smut and a bit of fluff at the end, possessive/protective!bucky, degredation (slut, fuck doll, cum-bucket), grinding, choking, spitting, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, pet name (sweetheart).

✦ Summary: Bucky is done with you going out with losers.

✦ Note: This used to be called I will kill them if they touch you but I never liked that title so I renamed it! Also, you guys didn't know what you were voting for, but it was the banner for this story! Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome 💚

Masterlist | AO3

"Please don't scare this one away as you did last time," you beg and look at Bucky's reflection in the bathroom mirror. He makes a face where he's leaning against the door frame behind you and then sighs when you give him a look. "He wasn't worth shit if he didn't wanna fight for you," he points out.

Now it's your turn to sigh and you cross your arms, glaring at him. "He isn't supposed to fight for me on a first date. We're supposed to have a good time and hopefully fuck." Bucky's mouth hardens, and he looks away. He doesn’t like that, at all.

Ever since you became roommates he's been very protective of you, helping you with the smallest things, driving you everywhere you need to go, even if you can drive yourself. Sometimes it's overbearing but most of the time it's nice to have someone care for you like that.

Unfortunately, recently he's picked up a habit of intimidating the people you go on dates with. He stands behind you when they come to pick you up, and his large frame and cold stare make many of them cower. A few have turned around right away, others have asked if that's your boyfriend or something, thinking it was some type of open relationship/cuckold situation.

"Don't say shit like that," Bucky says through gritted teeth. "I don't wanna think about you fucking other people." You can't help the teasing smile that cracks your face. "Makes you jealous?" With a huff, Bucky pushes off and leaves you to continue.

Two hours later your makeup is done and your hair fixed to perfection. You sit on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, with a glass of wine, waiting until the last minute to put on the skin-tight dress. While scrolling on your phone, Bucky sits beside you with a beer. "So where's the loser taking you?" "Don't care,” you shrug. “Honestly, my priority tonight is to get laid. The previous ones were a little too… bland. But he seems promising." "What do you mean, bland?"

Putting your phone down you look at him, "You don't wanna hear this anyway, you'll just get mad," you point out. "I don't get mad," he defends. "Pfff, you're such a liar, I can see it in your eyes whenever I mention another guy." "Because you deserve the best and all I've seen is trash."

Irritated, you put your glass down too. "Why don't you pick for me then? Who would James Bucky Barnes deem worthy of fucking me?"

The grip on his beer is so hard his knuckles whiten and his lips are a thin line. When he doesn't answer you lean back and start to count people off.

"Well, Steve seems a bit too sweet for my taste but I mean I would not mind trying a slice of that all-American beefcake," you muse. "Sam is so charming and funny! That quick tongue would probably work wonders, if you know what I mean," you wink and watch as Bucky's eye twitch, his jaw clenched hard.

"Tony," you continue. "Well, he seems a little self-absorbed but maybe he's a really selfless lover. Won't hurt to check!" "Loki is so handsome," you bite your lip. "I would surrender my body to him in a heartbeat! But I've heard that he leaves people high and dry and that would be awful."

Tilting your head, you say, "Do you think Thor and Jane would be up for a threesome? I can just imagine eating her out while he fucks me from behind and then we could-"

With a slam he puts the bottle on the table and grabs your face with his hand forcefully, silencing your tirade of words and squeezing your cheeks so that your lips pucker.

The grip is close to bruising and it's an instant pull in your lower stomach. His eyes are black with anger, something you've never seen directed at you before. "No one," he hisses. "Not one of them is fucking you, I will kill them if they touch you."

His hand releases you and grabs your neck instead. You're shocked, and instantly so horny it hurts. Opening your mouth to speak he squeezes harder, making a wheezing sound come out.

"I'll give you a chance to stop this. Tell me right now you don't want this and we'll act as if nothing happened. Otherwise, I'm fucking you into this couch until you can't remember your goddamn name." When he finishes his grip lightens. The rush of blood makes you euphoric and boneless. You want to give yourself to him, let him do whatever he wants. "Fuck me," you whisper.

The kiss is more teeth than lips and the hold around your throat hardens again. You try to keep up with him but it's impossible as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch, making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. You gasp for air as he pulls away, releasing you. His gaze is brimming with lust and want now, all signs of anger gone. Then he pushes you down onto the couch.

"You're a kinky little slut, aren't you sweetheart?" he mocks and leans in over you, spreading your legs with his. All you can do is nod and try to wiggle close so you can press your center against his clothed cock. It's clearly outlined in his sweatpants and you hope it's as big as it seems. "If I put my hand down your pants, are you gonna be wet for me?" "Yes Bucky," you whine.

The throbbing is almost unbearable and his smirk is downright sinful. "Come on, rub yourself on me, show me how much you want it." With another whine, you brace yourself against the couch and lift your hips. He doesn't move a muscle to help as you struggle to find the right position.

"That's disappointing," Bucky smacks his lips and frowns. "Thought you wanted this." "I do Bucky, I do, please I'm trying," you tell him desperately. With effort, you get into a good enough position to grind your cunt on his cock through the layers of clothing. It's not nearly enough to curb the ache.

"Useless," Bucky sighs and grabs your legs. "Do I have to do everything?" He pushes your knees up towards your chest, folding you in half and pushing his cock right into your core.

"Sorry," you moan. His mean words have only made you needier and you move yourself against him with abandon. Bucky is motionless above you, not making a sound or saying a word, just staring at you chasing your high. Your movements turn unsteady when you start to come close.

If you were of sound mind you would notice the glint in his eyes but instead, you’re barreling towards your climax. Until he suddenly moves away.

Gawking you stare at him and he just smiles wickedly in return. "Take off your clothes, spread your legs" he instructs and you quickly pull your pants off and discard your t-shirt and underwear, spreading your legs as best you can on the couch. Bucky takes in your bare body, moving his hands slowly down your thighs until his palms frame your pussy.

"Fucking shaved for him too,” he notes with a snarl. You're not sure why that upset him. "Sorry!" you say, just to be safe.

"I don't need your hair curled, your make-up done or your whole body shaved. I will fuck you anyway, sweetheart, no matter what you look like because you belong to me," he growls before he spits on your cunt, sending a rush through you, making you moan and spread your legs even more.

For the first time, he touches you properly, letting his fingers spread the spit all over your pussy before shoving two of them into your soaked core. He pistons them in and out, putting his thumb against your clit and making colors burst before you.

"You want to come on my fingers, you fucking slut?" When you nod frantically he instructs, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." A second after you do spit lands on your tongue and droplets on your face. It nearly tips you over.

"Swallow it," he orders and watches you as you do, some form of approval shining in his eyes for the first time. "Who do you belong to?"

The question is too complicated to understand, you can't focus on what he wants. "I don't…" is all that comes out.

"Wrong answer," he says and removes his fingers, making you shout in disappointment. Sharp slaps land on your wet cunt and you instinctively try to move away from it, but he grabs your legs, pulling you back. "Don't you fucking run from me."

"I'm sorry," you cry, looking pleadingly at him. "I'm- I'm yours James, yours to do what you want with. Please, please, please let me come!"

With a huff he pushes his fingers back in, pressing the tips into your g-spot and getting his thumb back on your clit. His unbothered state makes you feel so small and insignificant, heightening the pleasure coursing through you.

As it climbs, your body shakes, your legs trembling from being held open. "I'm- I'm- don't stop!" you beg. Closing your eyes you focus on the feeling of him, his other hand still gripping your thigh hard. You hope it bruises.

"I can feel you, slut!" Bucky's voice is the cherry on top of everything. "Come on my fingers, do it, come for me!" he commands and of course, you do as he wants. With a scream you convulse, almost pushing him out with the sensation flooding you. Bucky is talking above you but you're not sure what he's saying because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears.

A hard tap against your cheek makes you open your eyes. "Don't pass out on me, I'm not done with you yet." "Wouldn't dream of it," you smile dumbly, and it earns you a smile in return. But it quickly passes as he pulls off his tank top and pushes down his pants. The cock is just as big as you hoped.

He rubs the head against your soaked center, sending overwhelming sparks through you, making you twitch. When he notches the head of his dick at your opening your blood freezes. "C-condom?" you stutter.

Cocking his head he asks. "Do you really want that? Doesn't a slut like you want to be filled up with cum?" "Y-yes, but, Bucky…" you gnaw your lip.

"I want to fuck my little cum-bucket raw, make sure you feel me running out of you for days," he gives a light thrust, almost pushing inside, giving you a taste of heaven. For a second you look at each other and Bucky presses in just a little bit more. It decides it for you. "Please fill me with your cum Bucky, I need it so bad!" you whine and he chuckles before shoving his fat cock into you without mercy.

Quickly you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting his hard thrusts that are sending your body into overdrive. "Feel so fucking good sweetheart, your cunt was made for me, wasn't it?" he groans. "Yes it was," you answer breathlessly.

He grabs your face. "Those other losers are never going to satisfy you." "No, Bucky, only you!" "That's right, you're my fuckdoll now, sweetheart," he says before he leans down to kiss you. It's much sweeter this time and you grab his head, carding your fingers through his hair, feeling your chest fill with another type of warmth.

When he pulls back he says, "Beg me not to come in you." Your cunt clenches and your second orgasm is suddenly a lot closer. "Bucky, please don't… I can't get pregnant," you make your voice small and frail.

In response his laugh is cruel. "Yes you will, your purpose in life is to be bred. I'm going to cum in you every day til it sticks and then everyone will know who you belong to." "Please, pull out," you beg and reach down to rub your clit, feeling the climax shimmering underneath your skin.

"Such a bad liar, sweetheart," he chuckles. "Are you going to come on my cock? Are you gonna claim me just as I claim you?" "Yes! I just need- harder!" you pant. "Fucking hell," Bucky grunts and does as you demand.

The climax rips through you with little regard for your sanity. The sound leaving your throat makes it raw and a second later Bucky moans your name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It's almost good enough to feel him finish inside you that you come again, but you’re too spent to do more than shudder.

Then he kisses you again, sweetly, caringly, and pushes his arms in under your body to hug you close to him. "So perfect," he whispers against your mouth. The cums start to trickle out onto the couch but neither of you care, too caught up in each other's lips.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" he asks when he comes up for a breath. "I feel a little high," you confess. "Haven't been fucked that good in a long time."

There is something in his gaze that shifts and he leans his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't take it anymore… I like you so much." "Lucky for you I get off on that stuff," you smile. "And if I had said stop I trust you would have."

He hugs you so hard you can hardly breathe. "Of course, I fucking would." "You can make it up to me by going tender the next time," you smile. "Next time?" "As many times as you’ll have me." He laughs into your skin. "I don't think you're ready for that!"

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell jerks the two of you apart. You stare at Bucky with wide eyes. "My date," you whisper, horrified.

With a smirk, he raises himself on his arms. "I should make you go on that date with my cum running out of you, maybe even let him get as far as spreading your legs just to see that you’re already claimed."

With a groan, you cover your face with your hands. "Don't tempt me," you tell him before wiggling out from under him, finding your clothes, and hastily pulling them on.

Opening the door just a crack, you understand you look a mess by the way your date eyes you. "Sorry," your voice is small. "I wasn't feeling great and then I fell asleep on the couch." "Yeah, you look terrible," the guy notes before handing you one of the ugliest bouquets you've ever seen. Quickly stepping away he says, "I'll call you." but you know he won't. "Great, I'll see you around," you respond before closing the door.

Bucky takes the flowers from you and shoves them in the trash before grabbing you around the waist and kissing you again. "Didn't you say he was promising?" "I have no clue what you're talking about," you answer with a completely straight face but then start to giggle as he swoops you up and carries you to his bedroom.

[tbaluver]

Hi...I love your writing so much, Big Fan >_< ♡

Can I ask about what it's like to shower with LNDS men?

Thank U

Showering With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: MDNI, 18+, suggestive content. short NSFW is right below the SFW ! (p.s sorry if this format was confusing ! just wanted to add both in this one) a/n: hihi anonnie! thank you for supporting my work i always appreciate it so much ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ i hope this was okay and that you enjoy reading this and my other future works ! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ i dunno but i might make a shower smut after writing these LMAO anyways gonna post another headcanon in a few hours after this (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier: (SFW)

More of a shower person than a bath person because there were too many times to count on how many times you saw him asleep in the bathtub.

Almost falls asleep when you massage his scalp with soap as he wraps his hands on your waist to keep balanced. It just felt too relaxing and he couldn't help but flutter his eyes closed

Has a fair share of wash products but he ends up using yours because yours smell better and it smells like you.

He loves it when you clean him, it feels such a safe and intimate space between the two of you. You hum softly as you work gently against his scalp that you lathered. He felt so safe, so warm, in the space that you two created that he eases into the relaxation.

Loves the feeling of you every time he grazes his hands over your body. Obviously he’ll make sure to wash you as well. He’ll make sure that the soap doesn’t get in your eyes. Sometimes the two of you stand and hug, enjoying each other presence, while the water pours over the two of you-until the water gets cold.

Xavier: (NSFW)

He can't help it. You'll feel his hard-on when he's pressed up behind you. Ruts into you very slowly against your ass as he wraps around you while his hand is planted on your thigh to control the lazy pace. His moans would invade your ear as shaky breaths escape your lips.

Zayne: (SFW)

Another intimate time for the two of you.

When he’s coming home from work, he’s basically putty in your hands. You didn’t need to ask twice. He would barely have any energy to eat dinner or shower. He’s so touchy when you’re helping him wash him off while he lowly murmurs in your ear ‘thank you’s’

The type of man that would admire your body as he washes you with the body soap and shampoo. He has seen your body many times and has memorized every detail of you. But each time he sees you, it's like discovering you anew again. His eyes trail down as his hands lower, lower, and lower down your body as he washes you with the body soap.

Helps you wash your back and any hard places for you to reach and you do the same for him as well.

When you offer to help him wash his hair, he leans down, and you lather it with extra soap, laughing at how cute he looks. He doesn’t mind this at all, he finds your reaction to be adorable whenever you do this.

When he washes your hair, he is always so gentle. “Close your eyes for me, my love.” He’ll say softly as his hands carefully knead shampoo into your hair before washing it all away. He'll make sure none of it goes into your eyes.

Once you both finish washing, he turns off the shower and steps out to grab your towel. You both dry each other off, making sure every drop of moisture is gone and helps you put on your robe.

Zayne: (NSFW)

One finger would be rolling on your nipple while the other hand works through your folds. His mouth would be sucking and swirling on your breasts.

He'll use the shower bench to sit and to meet your height to suck on your breasts but will also use that opportunity to let you ride him.

Rafayel: (SFW)

Takes a long shower and I’m talking hours. He most definitely hogs the water and leaves you cold behind him. Has way too much showering products than you but he’ll definitely share them with you

Jokes aside, he would not stop caressing every inch and curve of your body when he sees you glistening with the water.

Loves to wrap his arms around you from behind. He’ll trail kisses on your shoulder to your ear while whispering how cute you look  before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Lets you try all his expensive washes and you two would experiment every shower on which is the best

Would tell you to wash him and he loves it when you wash his hair. The way your fingers scrub the shampoo and your nails massaging his scalp, felt like heaven to him. He’ll rest his head on your shoulder as you wash the suds out and he’ll have a content smile resting on his lips.

When the two of you are finished drying up, he'll make sure to pick the best moisturizer for the two of you before you both get dressed

Rafayel: (NSFW)

Round two. After you both finish having sex in bed or wherever, you’ll find him against you again all naked and wet. His arousal is more heightened in the water. He just needs his pretty girl again after the mess you made on his cock

Loves how the water slides and glistens down between your bodies

Sylus: (SFW)

The type to say, “Why waste water when we can just shower together.” And I fear he does have a point so that’s why you both shower together often.

He likes to stand behind you most of the time because this allows him to place his chin on your head as the water falls onto the both of you.

He is most definitely going to get handsy using the soapy water. He’ll moves his hand further down to rub your butt and give it a light squeeze

He loves to put the lather of soap on your nose or place a bunch on your hair just to see your reaction. He also finds it amusing to see you try to do the same with him but you can’t because of your height difference. It usually ends up in a bubble war between the two of you.

He helps dries you off first before you help him dry him off. He'll lower his head so you can ruffle the towel on his head.

When it was his turn to wash his hair, he would lean down, a smile curling on his lips as he gazed at your face while you carefully shampoo into his hair

“Sy close your eyes”

“Why would I do that when I want to stare at my pretty girl?”

Sylus: (NSFW)

You turn him on easily so showering with him feels like he has a permanent hard on. Once you step in the shower, he’ll let you get warm and wet before he starts  rubbing up on you. He just loves the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other, especially since you both are wet.

Pins you against the glass door of the shower and takes you from behind. His right hand finds your breast, squeezing them and pinching your hardening buds in the warm water while his left hand is on the plush of your ass. Sometimes he'll press you up against the wall and have your legs wrapped around him so you don't slip, just let him do all the work as he ruts into you

[moon7jay]

Carnal (p.sh)

Warnings : stepcest, dubcon, sunghoon is a pervert, sex tape, cum eating, just filth tbh, porn without plot

a/n: Im functioning on 2 hours of sleep so it's not proofread,there might be some errors,pls ignore them. reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ♡

"fuck, just like that " sunghoon groaned, squeezing himself from above his boxers, his red rimmed eyes tethered to the passionate sex scene playing on his laptop screen.

His breathing was heavy, pupils dilated as he watched the man's dick assault the bounded woman's pussy, coming out covered in white cum juices. She was trying to get away from him, but the restraints were not letting her. She had no choice but to take it.

Fuck. He needed sex.

As Sunghoon rubbed his clothed dick, sighing at the delicious friction, his mind drifted off to you.

Pink.

He swallowed the spit gathering in his mouth and reached across the table to open his hidden drawer. Rummaging impatiently with one hand while his other was busy touching himself, sunghoon groaned when he found the one thing that he was looking for. The pink lace underwear in his hand was old and dirty with cum stains. Sunghoon knew that he was responsible for its sorry state. That's what he gets for jerking off in it like an animal anytime you so much as smiled at him.

But he wasn't the only one to blame. You were equally responsible for fueling his perverted tendencies. Prancing around the house in your short little pink skirts. Sunghoon was never the one to go for hyperfeminine women but turns out you were an exception. With your pink bows and pink gloss and pink skirts and pink tops, you were like the sweetest candy that was waiting to be bitten into and tasted. sunghoon craved you with every fibre of his being.

The fact that you were forbidden only increased his desire tenfold. You were his step sister for fuck's sake but his dick throbbed at the mere sight of you. Blasphemous. But who cared? Not HIM.

Sunghoon buried his nose in your panties in hopes of inhaling your addicting scent but groaned in frustration instead. It no longer smelled like you. Fucking hell.

He was drunk and horny and you were the only thing running laps across his mind. He wanted to bury himself into your tight little body. Now.

Sunghoon briefly paused his ministrations and listened for the football match still playing in the living room across the hallway. the volume was loud enough that his parents would not be able to hear the nasty sounds of fucking from your room. He quickly shut down his laptop and tredged his way to your room right across from his own. His dick hung long and heavy in between in legs, straining painfully against his boxer briefs.

Your door was ajar, like always, a careless habit of yours that had given sunghoon countless opportunities to sneak inside and act out his perverse desires.

But he'd never gone this far. Never gone as far as to actually touch you. As he watched your scantily covered body resting so sinfully against the pink sheets, an inexplicable heat spread throughout his limbs. His body worked faster than his brain and he reached inside his back pocket to take out the handcuffs he'd picked up from his room. quickly setting up his phone right across from your bed , sunghoon hastily took off his boxers, ready to ravage you the entire night.

You stirred up when you felt a heavy weight settle onto your body, you tried moving your hands, mumbling and squirming in your sleep but your hands refused to move. Something was holding them down. A sharp pain in between your legs punched a gasp out of your chest, your eyes flying open at the sudden intrusion into your body, your mouth opening in a silent scream. Your bleary eyes met sunghoon's who was breathing uncharacteristically heavy on top of you. Tears gathered at your waterline, the sting in your lower region spreading throughout your pelvis. your core was throbbing from his cock tearing through your hymen so mercilessly. you tried to free your bound hands, but to no avail.

"Wh-what are you doing" you asked with wobbly lips but sunghoon's eyes were dark and unseeing as he stared into yours. You had never seen him like this before. "Gonna use you to satisfy my dick" he whispered and started pistoning his dick in and out of you. A pained moan left your lips as his thick dick dragged against your dry gummy walls. You could have screamed and begged him to stop, but you'd be lying if you said that you'd didn't dream of this every single night. Your step brother was hot and he made you hot. Your mother had kept you away from boys your entire life, so you had never given much thought to your sexual desires, never indulging in pleasures of the flesh. But all of that changed when sunghoon came into the picture.

He grabbed your wet cheeks and stuck his tongue inside your mouth forcefully, tasting your hot mouth with a fervent passion. You moaned and arched into his touch as he began pounding into you. His lips were harsh on your pillowy ones, his tongue moving languidly inside your warm cavity. The pain mixed with pleasure made you sob, your fingers curling around the handcuffs around your wrists.

"God , always wanted to fuck your virgin little pussy, waited for so fucking long" he moaned into your mouth. You pushed your chest up against him as he rotated his hips in a circular motion, grinding into your cervix, his cockhead rubbing and poking your g spot in a delicious rut. "h-hurts" you cried, your pussy struggling to fit him inside, the stretch was too painful.

"Mhmm bet it does baby" he panted on your face and reached down to rub against your clit to make your pussy wetter. the stimulation against your sensitive bud made you squeal and thrash under him. You sobbed as the pain started turning into sweet pleasure, your pussy began to drool, wet sounds coming from the continuous collision of his pelvis with yours. His teeth dug into your lower plump lip with an intention to hurt, your red swollen mouth was too tempting for sunghoon to resist.

"You feel so much better than my hand baby, fuck, so hot and tight" His fingers dug into your soft waist, bruising the flesh with his harsh grip while his thrusts became faster, the headboard now slamming against the wall. A fleeting thought of your parents came into your mind but you weren't able to dwell on it for long, the heat spreading inside your pussy overshadowing every other thought. His hand left your clit and he folded your body into half. He cursed upon seeing your fucked out face, your tongue hanging out while drool escaped your mouth. Fuck. Sunghoon's palms moved up to grope your chest, pinching and twisting your pert nipples painfully from above your flimsy nighty, a whine leaving your lips at his actions.

"we could do this all day baby, you just have to keep quiet and we could-mhmm god-fuck all day" His hands slid down to press upon your abdomen, eyes rolling back upon tracing his own cock through the bulge in your tummy.

"B-but it's wrong" You mewled, your toes curling when he applied more pressure on your lower stomach. He bent down to nibble on your earlobe, his thick dick reaching deeper in this new angle. "Yeah, it's so fucking wrong baby, you shouldn't be drooling around your step brother's dick like a slut" He grunted into your ear and grinded his groin against yours. The Squelching sounds resonating in the room were disgusting but so, so hot, your sweaty bodies rutting against each other to reach carnal pleasure.

Sunghoon pulled all the way out and thrusted inside, snapping his hips into your cunt again and again. Your silky walls wrapped around him so snugly, his breath coming out in harsh pants. "Nasty little girl, what will your mom think if she found you bouncing on my dick like this?" His dirty words made you cry out in disgust mixed with arousal. He swore under his breath upon feeling you clench on his dick. You felt So wet and So fucking tight, he swore he could taste heaven at the top of his tongue. he watched your legs flailing around while he forced himself into your tight hole repeatedly, without mercy, the sight so erotic that he could feel his orgasm approaching. He was pounding you into the sheets furiously, all the pent up sexual tension causing havoc on your cervix. You tried to stifle your moans but he was too big and too rough for your tiny, inexperienced body. The pace of his hips became faster and harsher, his grunts and groans reaching a fever pitch, the pressure in his balls ready to burst.

"Take my dick baby, take it like a fucking whore" he punched out with a few more thrusts, his hips stuttering and then stilling inside of you all at once, filling you full of his hot cum. "Ah fuckk fuck" He moaned through his orgasm, he was cumming so much, his hips still moving back and forth. Before you knew it, he began thrusting into you again, your cries of pleasure turning him into an insatiable beast.

"cant stop fucking this cunt" He groaned and started edging you, angling his hips in such a way that it felt good but not enough to make you cum. Your eyes were blurry and you started sobbing in frustration, moving your hips up to grind against his dick. His calloused palms held your waist and helped you move your hips on him, stilling his movements while he watched you fuck yourself dumb on his cock. Your eyes were dizzy with pleasure, small whimpers falling from your swollen lips, but you couldn't stop rotating your hips, thrusting upwards to make his dick reach your delicious spots. Sunghoon clenched his jaw at the sight of his cum leaking out of your hungry hole while he was still buried inside you. the way your arms struggled against the handcuffs above your head while your hips chased his hard cock was driving him crazy in lust. You looked like his fucking wet dream.

"Yeah, keep fucking it baby, fuck it like it's yours" He grunted, moving your body back and forth on his dick like a fleshlight. It felt too good, his dick throbbing inside your warm pussy. He wanted to start fucking you again but his pervert instincts took over instead. You whined in disappointment as he pulled out of your needy whole, your pussy trying to suck him back in. You watched in confusion while sunghoon came back to the bed with his phone, he turned on your tv which was set up right across your bed and connected his device to it. reaching above you to free your hands, he threw the handcuffs to the side.

You hissed and rubbed against the red marks on your wrists, freezing mid movement when you heard moans coming from your tv screen. Your moans, specifically. Your wide eyes turned towards the tv and you saw yourself. Saw your own body tied up to the bed as sunghoon pushed himself inside of you, rutting against you while you cried. In disbelief, you looked over to sunghoon and gulped at the scene in front of you. His hand was wrapped around his thick dick, jerking off to the footage of you two having sex. Hot arousal rushed through your lower body and your hand moved down to apply pressure to your throbbing clit. You should have been angry at the fact that you had been recorded without your consent, but you didn't think sunghoon cared much about consent and its synonyms.

"Fuck yeah" sunghoon groaned, this was hotter than any porn he had ever wanked off to. The way your tiny body struggled underneath his big one on the screen, his dick moving in and out of you without mercy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head while his hips clenched as he fucked into you passionately. All of it was too much. He could see you rubbing your clit, getting off to the obscene sounds on your tv. He squeezed his tip and cursed "fuck baby make yourself cum, it's so fucking hot isn't it?"

You nodded and whined, your moans overlapping with the moans coming from the speaker. Too good, it felt too good. You rubbed your clit faster, looking to the side to watch sunghoon jerk off furiously. His palm moved up and down, playing with his own balls, his entire chest covered in a sheen of sweat. "Im-im so close" you whined and he groaned, watching you gather his cum out of your abused hole with your free hand and suck onto your fingers, basically slurping on his cum. "Oh my fucking god " He sighed, his own eyes closing shut at the pleasure.

The Squelching sounds on the screen mixed with the filthy sounds of you both masturbating like perverts pushed you over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a damn train, your back arched off the bed while you kept rubbing yourself to ride your high. The filthy taste of sunghoon's cum on your tongue was too good. Sunghoon came just moments later, eyes fixated on your swollen pussy, spilling all over his palms and thighs "oh yeah, shit shit shit" he hissed while he rubbed himself raw.

Small sighs of pleasure and satisfaction filled the space between your heated bodies. As you both came down from your mind blowing orgasms, the bodies continued rutting against each other on the screen. It was starting to get hot again. The passion permeating your senses. You squirmed and met sunghoon's eyes which were already set on you. They were dark and blown in lust. Before you could say anything, he was hovering over your spent body again, rubbing his cockhead against your swollen clit, making you whimper in overstimulation.

"let's fuck while we watch us fuck"

[mattybsgroupie]

call | matt sturniolo

contents: cursing; established relationship; phone sex; guided masturbation; use of “y/n”; soft dom!matt

- ♡ -

notes: i just realized that i haven’t sexted in months?! (anyone willing to change that?!) so here’s some phone sex with horny matt ♡ thank you SO much for over 900 followers this is insane, i appreciate every like comment reblog and follow so very much! y’all know the deal: not proofread, but have fun with this one! love you guys

- ♡ -

after spending the whole day with my best friends doing a shopping spree, the only thing i wanted after getting home and taking a shower was talking to matt. i displayed all of my new belongings across my bed, carefully taking pictures of each item and sending to him.

after uploading the last one, matt didn’t text. instead, he immediately facetimed me.

“put it on” he said as soon as i picked up, not letting me talk. “i’m serious y/n, put it on”

“it’s for a special occasion” i said, chuckling when he got closer to the screen.

“i gotta see it!” he complained and i turned the camera, showing the stuff i had gotten. i knew he only had eyes for the new lingerie set i bought, a red lace bra and matching panties.

“there, you saw it” i joked, sitting on the bed with my back against the headboard. i positioned my cellphone by the pillow so he could see me as i grabbed the bra, playfully letting it rest on my chest over my sweaters.

“that looks really good” matt said, sighing deeply as he lifted one of his arms to rest behind his head. “but y/n, i think i might die. like, at any second” he spoke and i furrowed my eyebrows.

“what are you talking about, matt?” i giggled as i folded the lace, ready to toss it back on the bag.

“lack of titties” i couldn’t believe he had said that with a straight face. i bursted out laughing and had a peek of his growing smile on the screen, proud to have made a good joke.

“don’t laugh!” he continued with a fake angry tone on his voice. “it’s a serious condition and only you can cure it, but it has to be right now”. i brought my palm up to my face, hiding my eyes as i denied with my head, trying not to laugh again.

“so you want me to put it on? right now?” i asked, showing him the piece again. matt nodded vigorously, pouting his lips.

i rolled my eyes and touched the hem of my sweater, narrowing my eyes as i tried to hide a smile, pretending to tease him. i removed the fabric and threw it over the bed, exposing my bare chest underneath it. matt gasped, left hand now running through his hair as he adjusted himself to sit properly.

i kept on looking at him, widening my eyes as if i said “well, there it is”. matt licked his lips before talking again, “you’re so fucking pretty”

i tilted my head to the side and pulled the scrunchie that held my hair up, letting it fall over my shoulders. just when i was about to grab the bra, matt interrupted me.

“i wanna go there. fuck y/n, can i come over?” he asked, now scratching his beard, ready to get up at any second.

“are you insane?” i hissed through my teeth, grabbing my phone and bringing it closer to my face. “my parents are here!”

“and you’re doing me a strip tease?” he widened his eyes, acting like he was surprised. “such a naughty girl, getting naked with me over the phone when the house is full”

“shut up” i rolled my eyes, praying he’d actually continue. matt’s grin grew wide when he noticed i had bitten my lips and my breath suddenly had gotten faster.

“should i?” he said, lowering his hand to somewhere the camera couldn’t capture. “i bet you like this, hm? showing yourself off like a slut for me”

i adjusted myself in the bed once more, now lying and getting comfortable. matt noticed i had changed positions, “show them to me baby”.

with a heavy sigh in anticipation, i lowered my phone, showing him my breasts. i couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle when he said “fuck”, as if he'd never seen my boobs before.

my nipples were hard, all of matt's teasing about me being naughty for doing this at my parents' house only made me more aroused - and my plan wasn't, in fact, to wear the lingerie tonight. matt's birthday was approaching and wanted to make him a surprise, but he clearly couldn’t wait.

“we don't wanna make a fuss, do we?” he asked me from the opposite side of the screen, his voice snapping me back to reality. i nodded in agreement. “think you can do something for me, babe? open your mouth, yeah?” he commanded.

“such a good girl,” matt said after watching me. “now put your tongue out. i want you to stick two fingers in there”.

i already knew what he was going to ask next, so i sealed my lips around my own fingers and started to suck on them the same way i would if it were his instead of mine. i squeezed my eyes shut and leaned my head back against the pillow, relaxing my body as my tongue rolled between my fingers.

“take them to your nipples”, matt's voice was now deeper, more intense, and i could hear the sounds of the sheets moving along the bed - matt, surely, was hard already. i shifted the camera once again, now revealing my hardened tit and massaging it fully with my palm, my thumb circling my swollen nipple.

i let out a groan as i placed my index against the previous finger, almost as if i was pinching my own tit. my hands were not as agile as matt's, but his gentle incentives and his steady breaths made it easier for me to picture him there, playing with my flesh, squeezing, kissing and biting my bare skin.

then, suddenly, he flipped his screen to the back camera, showing the bulge that his sweats could barely hide. matt groped himself, mimicking thrusts with his palm over the thick cloth. he wrapped his knuckles around his length, tugging at his pants to show how his cock poked through the fabric. i noticed my lower lip sore as i bit it a little too hard to cover the sound of my whimpering and opened my mouth, sighing loudly and feeling my pussy clench.

“matty,” i called, receiving a reassuring tone. “take it off” i asked and he quickly did so, revealing his hardened cock.

his tip looked swollen and red, as if he'd been waiting for this forever. i could see the pre-cum leaking out of his slit, almost dripping down his shaft. my palm went towards my cunt, closing my thighs to feel the friction of the cloth of my shorts against my soaked folds.

“are you touching yourself babe?”

“n-not yet” i whispered. “fuck matt, please- can i?” matt hadn't started touching himself either, only dragging his hand lazily over his drooling cock.

“spread your legs and touch your clit for me, tell me how it is” he spoke and i quickly took my shorts off, completely naked, and opened my legs. my fingers wandered above my clit before i started to apply some pressure, goosebumps rising on my skin from the sudden contact.

“it's- swollen… hurts, matty” i whined, still gripping on the phone with my other hand.

“yeah? your tight pussy is aching already?” matt asked as i squeezed my eyes, traveling my digits down my wet folds, feeling how my pussy throbbed. “keep rubbing yourself real good sweetie, think of my fingers hm?"

“f-fuck, wish you were here” i really did. matt's fingers were much longer and worked faster than mine, being able to get me off in a few minutes.

“me too babe, look how worked up you got me” he talked about his cock, beggining to stroke his shaft in front of the camera. matt's breathing got heavier as his movements turned to a quicker pace, the wet sound taking over my speakers. “makin' me feel so good even when you're not here”

i could feel my pussy clenching, my need to be filled getting more intense as i circled my clit. i decided to take my cellphone to the nightstand next to me, fixing the screen so i could display my entire body as i touched myself to matt's words. “fuck, so pretty” he whispered as he kept on watching me carressing my curves.

“yeah babe, just like that. can you do something else f'me?” i nodded, not being able to form any coherent words, only muffled moans coming out of my mouth. “try sliding in a finger, hm? want you do it real slow, feel your walls closing around it”

i moved my middle finger down to my entrance, teasing it before going in. i remembered the way matt would do it, playing with his digits through my folds before pushing inside of me. he had turned the camera back to his view, showing his tired blue eyes and flushed red cheeks, lips open apart, a string of saliva connecting both parts. i groaned at the scene, finally starting to curl my knuckles.

“now put your hand on your neck. want you holding it tight while you finger yourself” i rolled my eyes as i wrapped my palm around my neck, increasing my grip’s pressure. i could feel blood suddenly rushing on my veins, my heart beating faster as i kept on that delightful torture of thrusting and choking myself.

“yeah, getting out of breath? 's okay, just as much as you can, know you love feeling dizzy right?” matt teased and the knot on my lower belly became harder to hold. “i need your f-fingers, fuck!” mine couldn’t reach my spot as good as his did.

“not good enough without me princess? don't stop rubbing your clit, do it with your thumb, you'll feel good” he adviced me, noticing my frustration. i did as told, moving faster as my legs twitched, spasms taking over my body as i got closer to my climax.

“babe, look at me” he called at my desperation. “bring the camera close, wanna see your face when you come”

“m-matt! please, gonna cum!” i cried once again, grabbing the phone quickly.

“yeah? gonna be my good little slut and cum for me over the phone?” i interrupted him with a chocked moan. “you can come babe, make a mess all over your fingers” matt said and i finally gave in, letting my orgasm break down on me. i tossed my phone on the bed as matt talked me through it, gripping on the sheets along with his praises.

“gonna lick you clean later” he continued, “love when my tongue drags through your sensitive pussy don't you? f-fuck y/n so fucking pretty i-” matt was cut off, groaning deeply.

“you came?” i spoke in a shaky voice, still out of breath. matt turned the camera once again, showing his now half hard cock coated in his white spurt, cum covering his fingers and part of his belly. i smiled, finally coming back to my senses.

“listen” he started. “that red bra? best purchase ever” i chuckled, not having energy to talk. “but like, i might still die from the lack of titties disease”

“you are seeing them matt. right now, my tits are here” i rolled my eyes. “and i told you, this set is for a special occasion!”

“special occasion tomorrow at my house, deal?” he joked and i denied with my head, covering an yawn with my hand. “you must be tired baby, lets go” he said as he adjusted himself in bed, turning to the side. i just pulled the sheet over me in order to cover my body, not wanting to get up.

“hey” i called, catching his blue eyes staring at me. “i love you”

“love you more. i’ll pick you after lunch, alright?” i nodded before i kissed the screen, receiving another kiss from matt. he disconnected the call and i finally closed my eyes, knowing i’d have to bring my new purchase to his house on the next day.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @her-favorite @bugeyedgrl @mattswhore-44 @sturncakez @riowritesitall @joemamaaa42069 @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @sturniolofandomthings @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn

[silkjade]

FAIREST OF THEM ALL

alhaitham x mermaid!reader au ⤀ synopsis: mermaids, and their vanity, and their affinity for pretty things... who better to admire, than the fairest one of all? ⤀ cw: fem!reader, established relationship, mirror sex, fingering, praise, rough + unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, a lil bit of dom!haitham, overstimulation, cervix kisses, squirting, subspace, vry sweet he’s actually so in love — mdni || ꒰ 5.1k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: recommended to read the affiliated series, but it can stand alone as well ! reblogs & feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

Mermaids and their vanity and their affinity for pretty things…

Where Alhaitham lacks in idle conversations, he makes up for in his acute observation; taking note in particular of the way you glance at your reflection—not only in the mirrors of a merchant’s passing display, but at every turn, and every corner. In the stained glass windows of the Akademiya, in the bronze vessels decorating Lambad’s second floor…even now, on your excursion through the Grand Bazaar, he catches the quick flit of your head as you peer at yourself in the fountain beneath Zubayr Theater. 

Not that he’d ever fault a star for its beauty, when even the sweltering Sumeru sun is roped into your orbit—bending to your will as it dazzles behind you, like a halo in your backdrop. Perhaps the world is, but a shell…and a pearl such as yourself—beautiful and rare—ought to shine on a more veracious display. A familiar smirk plays on his lips, painting his handsome face in a devious shade of sly.

It’s clear from just your peripherals that he must be devising something terrible… Yet there’s a dance to your step when you stop him in his path; your hands clasped coyly behind your back, as you dip into his vicinity with your feigned innocence. 

“And just what are you smiling for?” you lilt, shifting your weight forward onto your tiptoes. He leans over to honor what he can only surmise to be a wordless request, but you pull away before his lips ever have the chance to meet yours. You gleam in that coquettish smile of yours—one that sits so perfectly atop your playful flirtations. “Thinking about me?” 

Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyes…all in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shameless—any of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to you… 

So he cuts you off while he’s still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the waters’ surface once again.

“Just thinking about how pretty you are...” 

And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows you’d keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness. 

Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, it’s resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truth—the one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one you’re clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. It’s a shame, really. For although he’s never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the world’s truths, then he’d gladly partake down this endless road—as a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all? 

Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe. 

“I know how you love to admire your own reflection…” His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. “So don’t you want to see how pretty you look?” 

“No. That’s—” Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. “‘s embarrassing…”

He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But there’s nothing to tempt, when there’s no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out. 

“Haitham…” you breathe, and he knows you’re close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that he’s pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover ‘whyyyy?’, if only for the fact that he’s simply…faster. 

Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head down—away from that safe corner by his neck—so that you’d come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.

“If you look away, I’ll stop.” 

…And so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until they’re well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.

“That’s it,” he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at the…discomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as it’s become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. “Look at you…” 

Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visage…but it’s hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forte—especially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how he’s scissoring you open.

It’s almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.

Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you are—until like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.

“Haitham…” you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stop… 

But it’s tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and out—slowly, steadily—so that you’d see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.

“Please more… ‘m so close…” Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that you’d persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time you’ve spent with your lover in the nation of wisdom, it’s certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.

“As you wish,” he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though it’s hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most. 

Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and it’s gone—as if the plug had just been pulled from your very being—and like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.

A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck.  

“Keep looking,” he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. “I want you to see everything I do to you…”

“Like how pretty you are when I touch you…” He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. “Here,” he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, there’s nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass. 

It's obscene. You’re obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think it’s almost pathetic how far you’ve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, so…distorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display. 

Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shine…everything to flaunt how you need to cum—how you need him and anything he’s willing to give. 

Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your lover’s reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarity—one too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.

Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaitham’s prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation. 

“Do you see how,” Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, “erotic you are…” Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.

You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighs…there’s a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil you’ve chosen to submit to. “So show me what I look like when you fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he chuckles, and there’s a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines. 

A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lap—spread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip. 

Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at you—the real you, in the flesh—before he fucks you into oblivion. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. “‘Ayouni,” he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyes—as precious as the gift of sight.) “Nour ‘ayouni…” His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insides—a resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as you’d take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)

Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his hands—his little mermaid, his little doll—to maneuver and fold as he pleases.

A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. It’s never truly occurred to you how big he really is—at least not until now, when you’re confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on… (it’s no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how he’s always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)

The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, it’s one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behest…? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.

Still, you’ve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, it’s clear that he’s yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptiness—your insides so cravenly wanting what is amiss—because it’s just so inherently wrong that you aren’t full enough, that he isn’t deep enough.

An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. “Want you,” you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. “All of you, all the way…please…?”

“Aren’t you, ngh,” he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. “Aren’t you shameless today?”  

“Don’t care.” Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that he’d finally fill you. “Just n-need you.” In such a deliriated state, it’s difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bones—the resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your being…but it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when you’re asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course he’ll drop you lower onto his shaft.

Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural ‘fuck.’ He’s never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, it’s suffice to say he’s reached... 

“Too..d-deep…” you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness that’s engulfed your thoughts. 

A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hips…and suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)

There’s little time to process any of his wordless cues—especially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. “Like what you see?” he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length. 

All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when you’re so overcome by the feeling of Alhaitham…everywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.

“Show me where you feel me,” he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your hand—no doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legs—but he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin. 

“This…” Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. “... is how far I am inside you…” 

You can’t help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seems…taboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on you—dirty work done by the fog that’s settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition. 

“Don’t believe me?” Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocation—too human to act as if he’d been left unscathed.

For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move… Which he obliges to of course—adjusting ever so slightly, until he’s perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whatever’s left of you, as you’re made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so. 

“Keep singing for me,” he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented  whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. It’s clear his words are largely lost on you—displaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core. 

“My beautiful mermaid,” Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. “My beautiful mermaid…who always…” 

His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your knee—effectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open wider—before a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.“…takes me so well.” 

You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirror’s shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monster—inhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go. 

“Come on, let go…” Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. “I promise you’re just as ravishing when you cum,” he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. “Maybe even more so…”

The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girth—they’re all things you’ve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praise…to hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instincts…

It’s a dangerous combination. It’s too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaks—your muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight. 

“‘m c-cumming…” you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.

The name ‘Haitham’ tangles with your cries, and he loves it—addicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of you—finds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.

He’s close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as you’d allow him to follow. “Just. Like. That.” 

And so, when it breaks, it shatters—like skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destruction—until your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure. 

Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he were…impressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that he’s pleasured you this far beyond belief. It’s surreal—the only word in any of the languages he’s studied (including yours)—that could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow draw…only to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets. 

Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumane…but then again, a mermaid like you isn’t quite human after all.

“Can you, ngh, hold out…a little longer…?” His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)

“‘kay…” The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that you’d do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longer…(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams ‘too much,’ as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)

Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, it’d cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppily—too busy drowning in your deluge to care—while the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum. 

Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you don’t feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts away—replaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more. 

Alhaitham studies the ‘you’ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shoulders—each one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.

‘How…beautiful…’ 

You shake your head in dreamy opposition. “W’nna stay like this…for…a bit longer…” Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.

notes2: mirrors in his kit -> mirror in the bedroom pipeline, am i right (๑>؂•́๑) … i wasn't able to complete this in time for mermay this year, so consider this a little something for kinktober, i suppose ^^;; but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank you so much for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[nicromancytarot]

ALL ABOUT YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE 18+ themes, lots of information!!

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 15-20 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

(This took me 3 days lmao, please like, follow and reblog)

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what you need to know about your future spouse, pick a pile to find out!!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1 (TW sexual abuse)

“I need to take time for myself” “let’s take this to the next level” “i don’t want anyone else”

Their appearance

I’m seeing lighter hair, light brown to a blonde-white, I’m seeing they may have muscles, or just a nicely toned body. It also looks like their back may be very prominent to their appearance, they may work out extra to achieve really nice back muscles. They could honestly have a large top half and skinny bottom half (Miguel O’Hara for example.) I’m seeing someone quite tall, they may have an interesting shaped head, like not in a bad way, it might just appear more prominently on them. For a guy, long third leg.. (They allowed me to say this one.) Possible big ears, or maybe even wears earrings or something to highlight them. The right side of their face is the best for them lmao, they might pose showing their right side for pictures.

About them

They‘ve have been through some hardships in their life, they’ve been fucked over pretty bad in the past, and while they don’t like to dwell on it, I wanted to bring it up. It’s seeming like they may have gone through sexual assault, I’m seeing that they used to appear quite sexualised in the past, something they did themself, however, someone close to them felt valid enough to abuse their power and cause harm to your partner through their self-expression. This hurt your partner a lot, they’re still healing, I’m heading “please take your time with me” when it comes to sex, they have some extreme vulnerability about it, they need you to understand that; they’re begging me not to sexualise them, and they’re asking you nicely to do the same, give them the respect that someone thought was ok to steal from them.

Due to this mass betrayal, they appear very closed off to new love, they have a lot of people that want them, and fawn over them, but this situation has completely made them turn a blind eye to those who see them. It will take you a while to crack this person open, however once you do, it will be more than worth it.

They will be very slow to start this connection with you, but once they are sure that you can be trusted, and they feel safe around you, they will set up camp by your side, and they don’t plan on leaving.

Their career

They’re very financially successful, but I see that this took them a while, I think they began building up financial abundance due to wanting their family to be there for them, and take notice in their achievements.

In work I think they may be underestimated, appearing as the lioness, I can only be reminded of the over glamorisation of lions, and the societal irrelevancy of lionesses, even though they do more for the lion population than the lion, as a collective do for themselves. Unfortunately this being said, I see they are idolised for their body, rather than their talents (I’m getting Sidney Sweeney, and Vinnie Hacker for this, both talented people, who are only seen as pieces of meat, or some type of chew toy.) Your person is really disrespected and it’s making me so mad, man. They’re trying their hardest to break out of the stereotype, however I feel as though there are colleges of theirs that constantly sexualise them, making them feel very uncomfortable. Again, I’m getting the same message as before, they are yearning for someone to treat them like a human being, and not just a vessel of sex organs.

Their family

Mentioned prior, they do not have the best relationship with their family, I think there’s some deep-rooted and ínstense trauma from possible childhood, I see they were the type of child to get all perfect grades to try and impress, and make their parents proud, however I don’t think it worked. Their parents seem very self focused and absorbed in their own life, and business.

They assumed that becoming even more successful, making a name for themself, earning masses of money would make their family proud, but it never worked.

They may have cut their family out of their life, or they are considering it. If they don’t decide to cut their family off, it most likely comes from hope and fear, they are scared that their family won’t notice all their biggest achievements if they cut them out, and they hope that eventually they will be able to achieve something big enough so their family is proud of them. They blame themself a lot for “not being enough” and not making them proud.

How they are in bed

I was not able to get much for this, but I do see that they need to really be able to trust you fully before getting into bed with you, they need a lot of time and reassurance, they really need you to understand their fears. The first time you guys have sex, you may unintentionally bring up some hidden wounds, they’re telling me to tell you not to worry, they’ll look into your eyes and it’ll be gone. They may need eye contact the first time, they need that constant reminder that it’s you, and that you won’t hurt them.

They gave me a few explicit messages, so for that I got

“Cum on your face”

“Make a sex tape” (I feel like they would burn this onto a hard drive and keep it in a place only they know about, only showing you if you asked them to.)

“Food play”

When I got these messages, I had a fan on so I needed to put the papers under something so they didn’t fly away, I unknowingly put them under the chariot card, so I’m really getting again that you will need to work for this. The chariot was also the only sexual illustration I got.

Another thing is that they don’t want you telling your friends about your guys sex lives, they don’t want more people to sexualise them.

They also may finish very fast the first time, this could be out of sensation since I don’t think they would’ve had sex for a very long time by the time you guys meet and start dating.

Their love language

Acts of service, they enjoy doing things for the people that they care about, unfortunately it seems this has stemmed from their neglecting childhood, they feel as though they must do something for someone to feel loved. They do not quite understand that love is not a give to receive, you may have to be the one to teach them this. Your future spouse only believe people will love them if they do something for that person in return.

Quality time, they like to be with the people they care about, i’m seeing two people sat in silence on some arm chairs, one person is resting their head on their arm while scrolling aimlessly on their phone, meanwhile the other is reading a book, holding it with one hand as the other plays with the hand belonging to their counterpart, their fingers tracing the skin of their lover’s hand gently, fingers only just intertwining.

Their shadows

Your future spouse does not see their own self worth, they do not value themself as a person, or even a creator, whatever they do in life, they are a very creative and diverse person, yet they don’t feel that way. It’s as if they suffer from imposter syndrome, they never feel worthy of their achievements, because no one ever made them feel as though their success mattered.

They can be very closed off with their feelings, they become resentful towards their emotions and just wish they could rip the feelings from their body. They may say things they don’t mean in the moment, mostly because they don’t feel worthy of your love, but as soon as they realise what they have done, they will bring you to their chest and hug you tightly.

This reaction will never escalate further than a shout of anger.

I sense they might refuse therapy, you may have a lot of arguments about this, they try to tell themself that they do not need therapy, but this is mainly because they fear they will be laughed at, for coming to this person with trauma that even they struggle to understand, even after having gone through it. I would encourage you to try your best to get them to go to therapy, maybe even both of you together so you can get to know each other on a more intimate level.

Please be gentle with them my pile 1, they are truly a blessing of a soul.

PILE 2

“I’m not ready” “you’re too good for me” “let’s take this to the next level” (you may have been attracted to pile 1, if so maybe go check it out.)

Their appearance

Lighter hair, for a select few of you, it’s black. I think they might have longer hair, and like to wear it up, or they enjoy covering their head with a hat or other accessories. I’m getting medium height, maybe even shorter than you, or possibly only a little taller than you. I think they enjoy dressing more provocative, perhaps having shirt buttons undone, or just not wearing a shirt at all, they really like their body, and they know they have a good one. If they have abs, I would say they are there but quite faint, not toned, just enough to show. Their hair could be curly, or it’s just the first thing you notice when you meet them. I’m getting pirate vibes, they might dress up more like a pirate honestly, buttoned down blouses, a bandana on their head, their hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The area of their nose, lips, philtrum, and chin is very prominent, a main focal point on their face. Their eyes make them look tired and drunk, the classic sleepy eyes. They may wear a lot of jewellery, specifically gold. Their skin seems more into the tanner tones for the dark haired individuals, they may be part of the latino/a community. For the people with lighter hair, I see they could be based around Europe.

About them

I hate fuelling delusions like this, but multiple cards are pointing to this person being an ex, it seems like they had your heart at one point and came back for more, after having messed up the first time. They do seem very remorseful for their previous mistakes, they want you to know that they were naive and selfish, they didn’t know how to treasure something as important, and valuable as your love, however they want you to know that they are ready now. I see they could have cheated on you in the past, left you for another person, or just been toxic with you, and just treated you badly. Please take in mind that I do not want you to get back with any super shitty ex, you have free will so don’t do that, however I do think this person has changed for the better. With the chariot, and hanged man, I’m seeing they worked on themself to be able to be good for you, it may have taken them a few years.

For those of you who’s future spouse is not an ex, I would say that the first time you guys met, there was a sense of competition and it turned you completely off from them, or they just came across rude, and arrogant while trying to impress you, and you just weren’t feeling it. They’re coming back around to show you how serious they actually are about making this relationship with you work. They will need some time, one sided enemies to lovers lmao.

Their career

I feel as though they have a good amount of material wealth, they seem to have everything they could desire, they could be a little bit of a workaholic, which possibly can cause some drama between you, you will need to remind them of how important spending time together is, they will listen, they are always willing to compromise with you.

Their job is one filled with a lot of competition, I’m honestly getting technology, they could work with technology, they could be under a tech company position, or maybe they even work from home doing their own thing on their computer.

They can appear secretive when it comes to their job, they’re not trying to keep it a secret, or hidden from you, they simply just don’t really think to talk about it that much. Lowkey, they could be a moderator for some type of famous streamer, (lmao??) or they could work in a position where they help people with managing publicity, like an agent or something.

This job does seem interesting, but it does come across a little like they do it more so for the money, than for an actual enjoyment that they find. Some of them do enjoy their job, but I don’t think they would stick with it, if it didn’t offer them the money and exposure that it does.

Their family

I honestly feel like it was their family’s influence that got them to start working on themself, I get the sense that their mother was possibly the one to force them into therapy, she may have even sat through his first session lol.

I think he’s mainly closest to the woman in his family, I’m getting a close friendship with their 1-2 sisters, possibly older, rather than younger. Im getting that they see them a little puppy that needs training, if you guys get into an argument, and they go to their sisters, the oldest one would be quick to correct your future spouse on their mistakes, and convince them to talk to you again and apologise for whatever they did.

Their family love you, if it’s a second chance scenario, they are so happy that you guys get another chance at loving each other, they truly want you to stay part of their family.

I’m seeing a young girl, possibly around the age of 5-6, you will be very close to her, I’m feeling it’s a niece or cousin, who is constantly around when you visit the rest of the family.

How they are in bed

They honestly appear quite vanilla, all bark no bite to be honest, they will say the flirtiest things to you, and they appear quite sexual, but once you get into the bedroom, they become all shy and reserved, there is a potential for you to bring them out of their shell however.

I’m seeing that sex for them is more-so about their own pleasure, they can seem a bit selfish during sex because of this, they may also see it as a way to compete with others, I’m hearing “I have them in a way that no one else ever will,” they may deal with a little bit of jealousy when it comes to your relationship, they are you as a very desired person, so they worry that someone will steal you away from them, being intimate with you is like proof to them that you are there’s and no one else could have you in such a compromising position.

They may finish really fast, I’m seeing someone who is struggling to keep their attraction in, the way your eyes penetrate into theirs will have them a stuttering mess, unexpectedly pushing them to their climax, though I feel like you will be nowhere near your own. You may need to help them with how to pleasure you, so you also reach your destination!

They could be a virgin, they don’t seem very experienced, they may have even waited for marriage, so this could be the night of your wedding.

They’re on top, it makes them feel more masculine and in charge of the situation, I also think they need to be able to pick their own pace to make sure they don’t overwhelm themself the first time.

They will be bursting with anticipation every time you initiate something with them.

They may have a desire to watch you touch yourself, they know about the important places of pleasure for people of your gender, however they don’t know exactly how to treat those places, so they may ask you to touch yourself to show them, this could lead to an intense session of mutual masterbation, for the select few of you, this will come before your wedding, they’ll ask you about how they should pleasure you on your wedding night, and you will show them, they will get into the mood as well and join you in the bed, this will almost make them cave in and take you there and then.

“Pull my hair”

“You make me so hard/wet”

“Let me taste”

Their open to whatever you’re into, just give them time to adjust to the new sensations of sex first, before you spring any random kinks onto them.

Their love language

Physical touch, they enjoy being around you and putting their hands on you at any chance they get, they like to hold your hand, to wrap their arms around your waist, they just like how you feel under their touch, if they feel like they’re working too much, they will invite you to sit with them, possibly on their lap so they can have you with them.

They like their bare skin to touch yours, I don’t think they sleep with much on, maybe shirtless with a pair of underwear, they will press their front of your back, making sure their bare chest hits your bare back, and back of shoulders.

Gift giving, they like to buy you things, I think it’s in a way of trying to make up for how they treated you in the past, they use their money to prove to you how serious they are about you and their relationship with you, they’re very possessive of their material wealth, so sharing it with you is something massive, and unexpected. If you see something in the store window, they’ll notice you even as much as glanced at it, and they will make sure it belongs to you in no time.

Their shadows

Their can appear a little selfish at times, I think they’ve had to protect and defend themself all their life, so now they feel as though shutting people out and not letting them in is the best answer to cure and keep away any upcoming insecurities.

Your future spouse needs to lose things to understand how much they actually mean to them, they don’t appreciate things enough until it’s taking away from them, luckily for them, they tend to work hard enough to manage to get this back, ensuring that it will never be taken away again.

Their downplay their transformations, they don’t exaggerate, but honestly the complete opposite, they feel as though their past and their future and two completely different identities, they need constant reminders that their success is still their success, no matter how long ago it was.

PILE 3

“I don’t want anyone else” “do you feel the same?” “you’re the only one I want in my life” (again, you could’ve also been attracted to pile 1, I wouldn’t recommend going back up however, I think it may have been the warning that caught your eye rather than the pile itself!)

Their appearance

I’m getting chestnut brown, to black hair, for a woman, it’s casts down her back, quite long. For a man, It’s around medium length, maybe just above their shoulders. Their back is very prominent in this pile, I feel like they have nicely defined back muscles, however I do not think they are an incredibly muscular person. They could honestly dress more punk/emo, wearing black leather jackets which are decorated, and bedazzled with silver spikes, I do see a possibility for a more alternative style for men, feminine outifts for women, types of styles that accentuates their hips and bust.

They might like going outside a lot, they’d be the type to suggest a camping trip, so they wear clothes that are suitable, and durable for being outside for extended periods of time. Big black boots is another thing I’m getting, their hair could also be spiked up for a select few of you. (I’m honestly picking up Johnnie Gilbert similarities for this pile, maybe Johnnie’s future wife is watching, and they just don’t know, that’s crazy.)

About them

They know better than to overwork themself, they may be the type that needs to mentally recharge after being around people for too long, they also seem to take in a lot of energy when around people, they’re like a little portable charger, however this does mean that they get burnt out very quickly. Luckily, they are not one to ignore the signals of their body and mind, so if they need to rest and be alone for a little, they will do that, this can however make them appear a tad aloof.

I don’t think they’re the best at expressing their emotions, they keep them hidden for a reason, I believe out of fear of judgment, or getting hurt again. I’m seeing someone who may have been cheated on by an ex partner, I don’t imagine they got closure on whatever this situation was, if it wasn’t cheating, it was some type of intense betrayal. They may appear a bit condescending at times, this is their way of trying to push you away before you find out about their feelings, they weirdly think you will leave them or condemn them for showing any natural, human emotion.

Their hardworking in all areas of their life, mainly self improvement, they want to become the best version of themself, so their partner can be comfortable with them. I do see that they will have a dramatic change of circumstance, or just who they are as a person, around the time that they meet you, which would be done for you, or for some of you, they will improve themself right before you guys meet, this change in their life will bring you to them.

Their career

They have a job where their workload and work time is flexible, they have the ability to not work one day, and pick up the work the next day if they so please. This is good because it means they will be making sure they always have time for you, to make you feel appreciated.

Their job is focused around nurturing responsibility, they are a leader of their area, but not a leader overall, they may have some type of job where they have to be a role model for people of a younger age, mild fame or influencing is showing strongly (bro which one of you are Johnnie’s wife, this is getting too specific.)

The job brings in a lot of material abundance, I don’t see they have to worry about too much, other than understanding that their work can be overwhelming, and that they need to pace themself, allowing themself to take breaks is super important with this pile.

It’s a job that offers them long term stability, and more money with the higher their position gets, if this person is mildly famous, or some type of influencer, the more fame and fans they gain, the more money they will be raking in, however they do need to remember where their loyalties lie, and always make sure to appreciate the fandom that gave them what they have now.

Their family

Their family are so different from them lmao, like polar opposites, I’m seeing the sweetest mother who always makes baked goods, sometimes they can appear a little interesting, but taste good nonetheless. Their father calls them by a nickname which your future spouse hates, their father is really sweet, I’m getting someone a little more laidback, who would rub your partners hair to mess it up for absolutely no reason.

You will feel very welcome into this family, they do not discriminate since their son/daughter/child has gone through some intense stuff in their life, and they are just thankful that you are able to bring them security, and safety, your person could’ve struggled badly with mental health, and it may have worried their family, so their parents are super happy that you’re able to keep them happy. However, please remember that someone’s mental health is not your responsibility solely.

How they are in bed

I don’t think they would’ve had sex for a while before you guys got together, I think they may have done some type of sexual cleanse, they were possibly a fuck boy/girl in the past, so they quit it to help themself improve and be the best version of themself.

They may need a little while to really get ready to be intimate with you, it might come as a conversation that the two of you share, explaining that you would like to have sex with them, and them setting a date for it so nothing can go wrong. I see them prepping by shaving their entire body lmao, they’re going all out, if it’s a man, they’re going to get so many cuts in all the wrong places, and they will definitely complain about it to you. They do expect you to be as prepared as they are, so get yourself ready, find yourself a nice, new perfume and get to it.

I do not think they will have sex with you outside of the relationship, I feel as though they have so many sexual requests from people, it makes them feel only valuable for their body, they don’t want to be seen as just a warm body that you get to lay under, the first time you are intimate with them. You have to prove yourself before sex, and even then, it may take a while. I’m getting around eight to ten months after dating, they really don’t want to be fooled and used for their body, especially after their sexual cleanse.

They like to be on top, they may honestly end up sweating and shivering at the end of it, like that one scene from Titanic when Jack is shaking in the carriage while laying on top of Rose with a blanket.

The sex will get progressively more rough and interesting over time, but the first time is just pure love making.

“Look into my eyes”

“Fuck you silly”

“Tie you up”

I’m getting that they will need aftercare more than you will, while both of you will be giving it to each other, they are a lot more in need of it, I feel like you would be fine to just go into the kitchen and make yourself something to eat, meanwhile they desire to be in your arms for the next couple of hours.

Their love language

Physical touch, they need to be at least holding your hand at all times, they would lowkey like to wear a lipstick stain you created on their cheek or jaw, they like people to know that you are theirs, and they are yours. They may also really like when you give them hickeys, they will absolutely allow those to be on show for everyone to see, they are too proud to hide them. They like to hold your stomach? Perhaps it’s when you sleep, they like to rest their hand on your stomach, or perhaps they want to get you pregnant, they may be very serious about having kids sometime in the future.

Words of affirmation, they really appreciate when you tell them how good they look, or how the outfit they’re wearing is amazing on their body. They specifically enjoy your compliments, you have a way with explaining things, that makes it seem so much more authentic and honest, they trust your judgment a lot. I do see they have a tendency to feel very insecure, and although so many people tell them how beautiful they are, your future spouse struggles to believe them, thinking it’s some kind of sick joke, but they know you would never joke or make fun of them about that. You’ll be very surprised to find out about their insecurities, you may even think they’re playing with you the first time they mention it, this could make them feel invalidated, so be careful how you tackle this!

Their shadows

They constantly ignore their problems, they have an “out of sight, out of mind” way of thinking, which is just barbaric because it means they don’t sort through their issues and instead push them out of the way. You may need to help them with healing from some past trauma, and realising that they are allowed to feel hurt and anger from those past situations, as they were not at all ideal.

Your future spouse is quick to push people away when they feel as though they’ve said too much, and opened up more than they desired to, due to this, there may be a few times when you feel helpless, and they seem helpless, this is something you can work through together.

They get very defensive, very quickly, if you say something that unintentionally triggers them, they will shut off, going into some type of hermit mode until they feel ready to talk about whatever it is that bothered them.

[stylesispunk]

Silent strain | part iv

outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Time passes by and Joel still doesn't come back. The baby arrives and you feel lonely.

w.c: 10,5k

warnings: angst, mentions of birth, fluff, mentions of blood, not proofreading. Paragraphs in bold indicate flashbacks & paragraphs in cursive indicate journal entries. Reader cries a lot in this one, we didn't have a good week.

a/n: chapter four is here! Thank you to everyone who take their time to leave comments and share this story, which was supposed to be only 3 chapters but became longer. I hope you like this one. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Since you had met Joel, this was the first time you had ever been in a room without him. You were surrounding by walls in a safe place that it was foreign for you, sitting alone on the edge of a bed that you had just shared with Joel the night prior, now feeling impossibly lonely without him around. The weight hit you all at once, the quiet, the loneliness, the reality that Joel had left and you didn’t know if him and Ellie would be alright.

The weight of it hit you all at once, the quiet, the loneliness, the overwhelming reality that Joel had left. That you didn’t know if he and Ellie were alright. If they ever would be. A tight knot formed in your chest, pulling tighter with each passing minute.

Your mind raced, thoughts of where Joel might be gnawing at you. Were they already on the road? Were they safe? Had they run into trouble? You tried to push the thoughts away, tried to convince yourself they were fine, that Joel would protect Ellie like he always had. But the fear lingered, gnawing at you in the quiet of the room.

You stood abruptly, the need to do something, anything, to shake off the growing anxiety driving you to your feet. Pacing around the bedroom, your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, trying to think, trying to breathe through the tightening in your chest.

But no matter how hard you tried; the worry wouldn’t leave. Each time you circled the room, it felt as though the walls were closing in a little more, trapping you in this unbearable uncertainty.

And then, as you turned again, your eyes landed on something that stopped you cold.

There, on the chair by the window, was Joel’s shirt. Not just any shirt—his favorite one, the one he always wore, the one that had become your favorite too. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from your lungs. You stepped closer, almost as if in a trance, and your trembling fingers reached out to touch the fabric.

The scent of him still lingered in the material, that familiar mix of worn cotton, faint sweat, and the earthy scent that was unmistakably Joel. The tears that had been building in your chest all day finally broke free, spilling down your cheeks as you clutched the shirt in your hands.

Life in the QZ didn’t leave much room for joy. Every day was a struggle, ration cards barely covering enough food, let alone anything extra. But you had managed to save up just enough to get him something special.

The shirt.

You had seen it hanging in the back of a small booth during one of your shifts at the QZ market. It wasn’t much—faded, a little worn—but it had a softness to it that you thought Joel might appreciate. He never said it out loud, but you could tell his clothes were becoming threadbare, the weight of the world making even the little comforts seem unattainable. You wanted to change that, even in a small way.

The look on his face when you handed it to him had been one of complete confusion, like he didn’t quite know what to do with kindness anymore.

“Why’d you get me this?” Joel had asked, his brow furrowing as he held up the shirt, inspecting it like he thought there was some kind of catch.

You shrugged, trying to play it off casually, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “I just… thought you could use something new. You’ve been wearing the same damn thing since I met you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes were still guarded, suspicious. “You used your rations for this?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a little softer, more vulnerable than you intended. “It’s no big deal. Just… thought you deserved something nice.”

Joel stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the shirt like he was afraid to accept it, afraid of what it meant. His gaze flickered to yours, and you saw something there, unreadable.

“Why’re you doing this for me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost accusing, as if he couldn’t believe that someone would care about him enough to make such a gesture.

You took a step closer, your heart hammering in your chest. “Because I want to, Joel. Because you matter to me.”

His eyes darkened, the weight of your words settling between you like a heavy fog. You could see the battle he was waging within himself, the walls he had built so high, trying to protect himself from feeling anything. But the look in his eyes softened, if only for a moment, and something shifted.

Before you could say anything else, before you even had a chance to breathe, he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hand cupped the back of your neck, rough but gentle, and then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t soft or slow. It was raw, desperate, as if he had been holding himself back for far too long. The kiss stole the air from your lungs, a surge of warmth flooding through you. He kissed you like he needed it, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, and in that moment, you knew that this was more than just a Kiss, it was the first crack in his armor.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Neither could you.

“You shouldn’t be wastin’ rations on me,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, almost tender.

You smiled, your hands still clutching the fabric of his shirt. “Not a waste. Not at all.”

Joel’s lips twitched, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a small, real smile.

From that moment on, the shirt had become his favorite. He wore it often, and every time he did, it reminded you of that day, of the first time he had let you in.

From that moment on, you had become the most precious thing he had in the world.”

Tears blurred your vision as you sobbed into the fabric, holding onto it as if it were him, as if it could somehow bring him back. The ache in your heart was unbearable, the reality of his absence crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You whispered his name through your tears, wondering where he was, if he was thinking of you too. If he missed you, and of course he did, you thought. But what was really eating you was his safety. The fear clawed at you, the unknown hanging over you like a dark cloud.

"Please come back," you whispered to the empty room, your voice breaking. But the only answer was the silence, the vast, aching silence that now filled the space Joel had left behind.

+

At the same time, miles away, Joel lay on the cold floor of an abandoned house, his body limp, covered in sweat and blood. His breath came in ragged gasps, barely enough to keep him conscious. The world around him blurred, the edges of his vision darkening as pain coursed through his body. His grip on reality was slipping, but one thing remained constant in his mind: you.

He tried to focus, tried to stay awake, but it was getting harder. The wound in his side throbbed with every shallow breath, blood seeping through his clothes and pooling beneath him. The searing pain was relentless, but what hurt more was the thought of you, alone, without him.

Ellie was beside him, frantically trying to stop the bleeding, her hands shaking as she applied pressure to his wound. "Joel, stay with me," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

Joel’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, his gaze unfocused. He could hear her voice, but it felt distant, muffled, like she was speaking through water. His thoughts drifted to you—how you had always been the one to keep him grounded, to remind him there was something worth fighting for.

He thought of your smile, the way your eyes would light up when you laughed. He thought of the shirt you'd given him back in the QZ, how he hadn’t understood why someone like you would care for someone like him. He thought of the nights you spent together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and how your belly had grown your baby inside.

The thought of not having the chance of meeting his baby was pulling the string to life now.

"Joel, stay with me!" Ellie’s voice broke through the fog again, more urgent this time. She was crying now, her hands stained red as she tried to keep him alive. She had seen too much death, lost too many people, and she couldn’t lose him too. Not now.

Joel’s breath hitched as his body fought to stay conscious. He thought of you one last time, of the child growing inside you, the life he had left behind to protect Ellie. He had made a choice, but now, as the darkness threatened to pull him under, all he could think about was getting back to you.

His hand twitched, reaching for something—anything to hold on to—but all he felt was the cold, hard floor beneath him. His eyelids grew heavier, his body weaker, but somewhere deep inside, he clung to the hope that he would see you again. That he would make it back to you.

"Please," he whispered, though it was barely audible. He wasn’t sure if he was begging Ellie to save him or if it was a prayer to the universe to bring him back to you.

Ellie’s hands didn’t stop, her desperation fueling her as she fought to keep him alive. "I won’t let you die," she swore, her voice raw with emotion. "I won’t."

But as Joel’s world faded to black, the only thing on his mind was you, and the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch, everything that had kept him going. The thought of you was his last tether to the world, the only thing he could hold onto in the darkness.

And then, there was nothing.

you stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the window, your body still heavy with exhaustion and the weight of your sorrow. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of Joel’s shirt, the scent of him lingering in the fibers, a bittersweet reminder of his absence.

A gentle knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You sat up slowly, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks, the reality of the past few days crashing back over you like a wave. “Come in,” you called, your voice hoarse from crying.

The door creaked open, revealing Tommy standing in the doorway, a worried expression etched across his face. “Hey,” he said softly, stepping into the room. “I thought I’d check on you.”

You forced a small smile, but it felt fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. “I’m okay,” you lied, though the truth hung heavily in the air between you.

Tommy’s gaze fell to the shirt in your hands, his expression shifting to one of understanding. “You miss him,” he stated rather than asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, the tears welling up again, and you quickly blinked them away. “Of course I miss him. And I don’t know if he is okay.”

Tommy moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I wish I could tell you he is. But… we’ve been through a lot, and sometimes, we have to trust that they’ll come back to us.”

His words brought some comfort, but it was fleeting. “What if he doesn’t?” you whispered. “What if he and Ellie are hurt?”

You wanted to believe him, to cling to that hope, but the uncertainty gnawed at you. “I just want him back,” you admitted, the ache in your heart making your voice crack. “I want them both back, we were supposed to be a family.”

Tommy’s expression softened; the concern etched on his face deepening. “I know,” he replied, his voice steady. “You’re right. You three are a family, and it’s not fair for you to feel this way.”

The raw emotion in your words hung heavy in the air. You could feel the tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. “It just feels so empty without him.”

He nodded in understanding, his gaze unwavering. “Joel’s a fighter, and so are you. Just hold on to that. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that hope can keep us going even when things seem dark.”

“But what if hope isn’t enough?” you asked, frustration creeping into your voice. “What if he’s out there, and I’m just stuck here waiting?”

Tommy sighed, leaning forward slightly. “You’re not just waiting. You’re doing something important right now by taking care of yourself and that baby. Joel would want you to stay safe and strong. You’re both his world.”

His words made you pause. You had been so consumed with worry that you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider what Joel would want for you, for the baby. You needed to honor his love by taking care of yourself, even if it felt impossible at the moment.

“I know you’re right,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It’s just hard to think of anything else when all I want is to be with him.”

Tommy reached over, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, you have to keep yourself strong for my baby nephew or niece there” he said pointing at your belly, “And I heard that there is a delicious breakfast waiting for you at my house.”

A small smile broke through your sadness at Tommy's words. The thought of food, especially something delicious, made your stomach rumble. “Breakfast, huh?” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. “Is it worth the trek over there?”

Tommy chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “You bet it is. Maria’s been in the kitchen since sunrise, whipping up all sorts of goodies. You can’t say no to her pancakes.”

The mention of Maria made your heart feel a little lighter. She always had a way of brightening your day, and the thought of spending time with her and Tommy brought a hint of normalcy back into your chaotic world. “Alright, I guess I can be tempted by pancakes,” you said, wiping your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Just give me a moment to get ready.”

As you stood up and moved towards the small mirror on the wall, Tommy turned to leave, but not before he added, “And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you, and Joel will come back. You have to believe that.”

You nodded, feeling the flicker of hope ignite once more within you. “I will, Tommy. Thank you.”

As the weeks passed, life in Jackson continued to move forward, albeit without Joel. You immersed yourself in the routine of the community, trying to find solace in the familiar faces and daily activities. However, your heart remained tethered to the memories of him, each thought a bittersweet reminder of what was lost.

Paul’s presence became more pronounced during this time. His visits were frequent, and he often lingered a bit longer than necessary, his laughter ringing through your home, filling the silence left by Joel. At first, you welcomed his company, finding comfort in his kindness, but gradually you began to notice the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his touch was a little too warm, a little too intentional.

You were oblivious to his growing intentions, too consumed by thoughts of Joel. Every time Paul made a gesture that hinted at something more—like the way he’d offer to carry things for you or the way his smile seemed to brighten when he caught your eye—you brushed it off as friendly camaraderie.

But in the quiet moments, especially as your pregnancy progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder what Joel would say or do. You often imagined him here, by your side, offering his protective presence and the warmth of his love.

One afternoon, while you were resting on the porch, Paul joined you, bringing along a small basket of fruit. “Thought you might like a snack,” he said, settling down beside you. “You’ve got to keep your strength up.”

“Thanks, Paul,” you replied, taking a piece of fruit and munching on it absentmindedly. Your mind drifted, imagining Joel’s voice teasing you about how much you were eating, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought.

Paul watched you, his expression softening as he leaned a bit closer. “You know,” he started, hesitating for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’re pretty amazing. I admire how strong you are, going through all this without—”

“Without Joel?” you interjected gently, your heart clenching at the mention of his name. “I don’t really feel strong. I just… I’m doing what I have to do.”

Paul nodded, a hint of disappointment flickering across his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Right. Just know I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need.”

You offered him a grateful smile, but inside, the ache for Joel was relentless. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that Joel would come back, and that you could return to the life you had built together. But every passing day made the reality of that hope feel more distant.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow across the horizon, you felt the familiar pang of loneliness creeping back in. You were in Jackson, surrounded by people, yet the emptiness inside you was profound. No amount of comfort from Paul could fill the void that Joel had left behind.

February 15

It’s been weeks since Joel left, and I’m still struggling to accept it. I find myself waking up each morning, hoping that it was all just a nightmare, but the empty side of the bed reminds me of the truth. I miss him more than I can put into words.

Tommy and Maria have been amazing, and I’m grateful for their support. They try to keep me distracted, to make me feel like I’m not alone, but the truth is that every moment feels heavy without him here. Even the laughter we share feels tinged with sadness. I want to be strong, for my baby and for Joel, but some days, it feels like an impossible task.

And then there’s Paul. He’s kind and thoughtful, and I can see that he cares about me. I appreciate everything he does, but it feels wrong to let myself lean on him. My heart belongs to Joel, and nothing will change that. I’m still waiting for him to come back, to hold me again and make everything feel right.

I can’t shake the fear that I might never see him again. What if something happened? What if he’s in pain? My heart aches with every unanswered question. I wish I could tell him that I love him, that I’m thinking of him every second of the day.

But then, I think of the baby. The baby needs me to be strong. I need to focus on keeping myself healthy for them, even when it feels like my heart is breaking. I can’t forget about them in the midst of all this pain.

I keep reminding myself that I’m not alone. I have Tommy and Maria, and even Paul, though it feels complicated sometimes. I just wish I could feel whole again.

As I sit here writing, holding onto this shirt of Joel's, I hope that wherever he is, he knows how much I love him. I hope he’s safe and that he’s thinking of me too. I’ll keep writing until he returns. It’s the only way I know how to keep our story alive.”

It was one of those quiet evenings when the weight of Joel's absence seemed unbearable. You hadn’t seen much of Tommy or Maria that day, and Dr. Paul had stopped by as usual. This time, though, he lingered longer, suggesting he bring you dinner to keep you company. You hesitated, but the idea of eating alone in the house that felt more like a stranger’s shelter than a home wore on you. So, reluctantly, you agreed.

The two of you sat across from each other at the small table, plates of food in front of you, but you barely touched yours. Paul, on the other hand, seemed relaxed, making light conversation about the community, about his work. You nodded along, offering small smiles, but your mind wandered, as it always did, back to Joel.

After a while, Paul cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between bites. His eyes lingered on you, a softness there that made you shift uncomfortably in your seat. "You know," he began, his voice gentle but carrying a certain weight, "you won’t be able to do this alone forever."

You furrowed your brows, not quite following. "What do you mean?"

Paul leaned forward slightly, his expression serious, yet warm. "Raising a baby... it’s not something you should have to handle on your own. You’ll need someone by your side. Someone who can help you, take care of you and the baby."

Your heart skipped a beat at the insinuation, and for a moment, the room felt too small. The air thickened as you stared at him, realization dawning slowly. He wasn’t just offering help out of kindness. There was something more to his visits, to his attentiveness, something you hadn’t seen until now.

You swallowed hard, a flash of anger mixing with the ache of missing Joel. You pushed your plate away, your appetite completely gone now. "Joel’s gonna get back," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. "He’s coming back."

Paul blinked, taken aback by your response. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out how to respond. "I understand that you care for Joel," he said carefully, his tone measured, "but he left, didn’t he? He made a choice."

Your jaw tightened, defensive walls going up. "I don’t care about Joel. I love him. I’m in love with him. He’s doing what he has to. He’s coming back for us. I know it."

Paul’s gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes—concern, perhaps, or frustration. “I just don’t want you to set yourself up for heartbreak. You deserve to have someone who’s here for you now, not just someone you hope will come back.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “You don’t know what we have, Paul. You don’t understand the bond we built, the things we’ve been through together.”

His expression shifted slightly, a mix of empathy and something you couldn’t quite place. “And I respect that. But you also need to think about your future—about your baby. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s...”

“Stop,” you interrupted, the word bursting from you like a shield. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I won’t allow myself to entertain that thought. Joel will come back for us and before the baby arrives.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the only sounds coming from the gentle crackling of the fire in the corner and the distant hum of life outside. You could feel the weight of the unspoken hanging between you, a chasm created by the gulf of your differing hopes.

Paul opened his mouth, clearly torn on how to respond. “Look, I’m not trying to come between you two. I just—”

“I know,” you interjected, your voice calmer now, but still firm. “You care. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, for the baby. But my heart belongs to Joel, and it always will. It’s not fair to me or to him to act like that connection doesn’t exist just because he’s not here right now.”

Paul sighed, leaning back in his chair with a resigned expression. “Okay. I hear you. But just know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Whether it’s just as a friend or... more. Just think about it, alright?”

You nodded, though your heart felt heavy. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he wanted to help. But every time you thought of Joel, a warmth spread through you that no one else could replicate.

“Thanks, Paul,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile. “But I think you should go.”

Paul's face fell at your words, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. The warmth that had been there moments before faded, replaced by a guarded expression. “I understand,” he replied softly, his voice steady despite the obvious hurt. “I just wanted to help you, to be there for you in any way I could.”

You felt a pang of guilt for turning him away, but you had to be firm. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Paul. Really. But from now on, I think it’s best if we keep things more... professional. I need to focus on me and the baby right now. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

He nodded slowly, processing your words. “Of course. I can respect that,” he said, though the disappointment lingered in his eyes. “I’ll check on the baby and make sure you’re both doing okay, but I won’t push for anything more.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved that he seemed to understand. “That’s all I need for now. Just someone who can help with check-ups and advice. No more dinners or flowers or anything like that. I need to keep my mind clear.”

Paul inhaled deeply, nodding again. “I get it. I really do. Just know that if you ever change your mind or need anything, I’m here.”

As he stood up to leave, the atmosphere in the room shifted, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging heavily in the air. You felt a mix of sadness and relief wash over you, knowing that you had made the right choice for your heart, but also recognizing the friendship that was slipping away.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softening again as he moved toward the door. “And take care of that little one. I’ll be around to check on you both.”

“Thanks, Paul,” you replied, forcing a smile even though your heart felt heavy. As he stepped outside, the door closing gently behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You stared at the empty chair where he had just sat, the silence of the room settling around you. The reality of your situation loomed large; you were alone in a world where you were still waiting for Joel, still holding onto hope. The ache of missing him was as familiar as the beating of your heart, a constant reminder that some connections could never truly be replaced.

As you turned your gaze back to the window, you let your thoughts drift once more to Joel, the warmth of his memory wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You closed your eyes and whispered his name, hoping with all your heart that he was safe, that he was thinking of you too, and that one day soon, he would return to fill the void in your life.

You were about to give birth and Joel would be here by then.

The day had finally arrived, but as you lay in the infirmary, the pain of contractions rippled through you, sharper than you could have imagined. Each wave of discomfort was accompanied by a fresh wave of disappointment and anger, emotions that seemed to swirl together in a chaotic dance within you.

You gripped the edge of the bed, trying to focus on your breathing, but it felt impossible to push away the nagging thought that Joel should have been there. This was a moment that deserved his presence, his strength. You had envisioned him by your side, his reassuring voice guiding you through the pain, just as he had done so many times before. But instead, you were alone, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the sterile smell of antiseptic.

“Just breathe, you’re doing great,” Paul said, trying to offer comfort as he checked your progress. His voice was calm and steady, but it did little to soothe the tumult inside you. You could sense his concern, but all you could think about was Joel, his absence a heavy weight on your chest.

“Where is he?” you gasped, the question slipping from your lips, filled with a mix of desperation and fury. “He should be here! He promised... he would be back.” The words came out more like a plea, the frustration boiling beneath the surface as you fought against the pain.

Paul exchanged a worried glance with the Tommy and Marie before looking back at you. “I know you’re scared. But you need to focus on the baby right now. You can do this.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on the here and now, but every wave of pain brought Joel’s face to your mind, and with it, a sharp pang of grief. Tommy’s hand was on yours, a steady, reassuring presence. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, though his voice sounded distant, almost muffled. “Just a little longer.”

You barely heard him, your thoughts swirling. The pressure built, and a cry escaped your lips as another contraction tore through you. Maria was on your other side, her face tight with worry. "Just breathe," she urged. "You're almost there."

You squeezed Tommy's hand harder, your nails digging into his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Finally, there was a moment of stillness, a pause in the storm of pain. You felt the baby slide free, and then there was a new sound, thin and high-pitched, cutting through the air, the cry of a newborn.

But instead of relief, a hollow feeling settled in your chest. Your breath hitched, and your eyes remained tightly shut, refusing to open, refusing to acknowledge what had just happened.

Maria moved quickly, wrapping the baby in a soft blanket, her eyes filled with tears as she turned to you. "It’s a girl," she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent. "A beautiful, healthy girl."

You didn’t look. You couldn’t. “No,” you muttered, shaking your head weakly. “I… I don’t want to see her.”

Maria hesitated, a look of confusion flashing across her face. “But… she’s your baby,” she urged gently. "She's right here. She's perfect."

Tommy glanced at Maria, then back at you, a look of worry crossing his face. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “what’s going on? You’ve been waiting for this, for her. She’s your daughter.”

You felt a sob catch in your throat, the words clawing to get out. "I can’t… I can’t do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not without him. I can't..."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Maria and Tommy exchanging a look filled with unspoken concern. Tommy’s face softened, his grip on your hand tightening. “He’ll come back,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Joel will come back. You know he would never leave you like this… not for good.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. "He left," you murmured, your voice trembling. "He left, and I don't know if he’s ever coming back. I don’t know how to do this without him. I don’t want to… I can’t look at her."

Maria’s expression softened, and she gently handed the baby to a nearby nurse, who took the little girl away for a moment. "It’s okay,” Maria whispered, sitting closer to you. "It's okay to be scared. It's okay to feel lost."

Your chest tightened, a sob breaking free from your lips. “I just… I needed him to be here,” you confessed, your voice small and broken. “I needed him, and he’s gone.”

Tommy rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, his eyes filled with empathy. "I know," he said quietly. "I know it hurts. But you’re not alone, okay? We’re here, Maria and I… all of Jackson is here for you. And Joel… I believe he’ll come back. You have to believe that too."

You closed your eyes again, feeling the exhaustion settling over you like a heavy blanket. "I don’t know how to feel," you whispered, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Tommy sighed, nodding slowly. “Take your time,” he murmured. “We’re not going anywhere. And when you’re ready… your little girl will be here, waiting for you.”

Maria reached out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered softly. “And she needs her mom. But we’ll take care of her for now. We’ll make sure she’s safe. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded, barely, a sense of numbness spreading through you. Somewhere, deep inside, you wanted to believe that Joel would walk through that door any second now, that he’d see his daughter, hold her, and everything would be okay.

But until then, all you could do was wait.

A few hours later, the room had quieted down, the dim light from a nearby lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. You felt a heavy exhaustion weighing down on you, a bone-deep tiredness that seemed to seep into every part of your being. The adrenaline from the birth had faded, leaving you with a hollow ache that was more emotional than physical.

The door creaked open, and you heard the footsteps before you saw him.

Paul stepped inside, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey there,” he said softly, his voice low to avoid startling you. “How are you holding up?”

You nodded slightly, trying to muster a smile despite the emotional weight in your heart. “I’m okay. Just... tired.”

He moved closer, clearing his throat, looking down at you with a polite but firm expression. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low in the quiet room. “I know it’s been a lot, and you’re tired… but your baby girl needs to be fed.”

You turned your head away, staring at the wall, trying to ignore the tightening in your chest. You weren’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He took a step closer, his voice growing softer, almost coaxing. “She’s hungry. And the sooner you start, the better it’ll be for both of you. I know this is hard, but…” He hesitated, a slight frown creasing his brow. “She needs her mom.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling a spark of irritation at his words. "I can’t," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper. “Not now.”

He sighed, moving to the edge of the bed, his eyes searching your face for something, understanding, maybe. “Look, I get it,” he began, his tone more insistent. “But you can’t just leave her to starve. You’re all she has right now. You’re her whole world.”

You shot him a sharp glance, your frustration bubbling up. "I said no," you replied, your voice firmer this time. “Get someone else to feed her.”

Paul’s expression tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "There isn't anyone else,” he pressed. “We don’t have a lot of resources here, and formula is limited. You have to do this, or she’ll suffer.”

The weight of his words hit you, but so did his tone. The way he seemed to be blaming you, as if it was your fault that you were too broken, too overwhelmed to even look at your own child.

Maria, who had been hovering nearby, stepped forward, placing a calming hand on the doctor’s arm. “Paul, give her a minute, okay?” she said softly but firmly. “She’s just been through a lot. Let’s give her some space.”

He nodded, reluctantly stepping back. "I’m just saying,” he muttered, his gaze flicking back to you. "She’s going to need her mother sooner rather than later."

He turned and left the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway. Maria watched him go, then turned back to you, her eyes filled with empathy. She reached out, gently squeezing your hand. “I know he can be a bit… pushy,” she said quietly, “but he’s right about one thing. She does need you.”

You swallowed hard, tears stinging your eyes again. “I just… I can’t face her, Maria,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “Not when I feel like this. Not without Joel.”

Maria nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I get it,” she whispered. “But you’re stronger than you think. And that little girl… she’s a part of you. And Joel, too.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you felt the weight of them settle in your heart. You were afraid — of loving this child, of losing her, of losing another part of yourself if Joel never came back. But there was also a flicker of something else, something deep and primal — the instinct to protect, to care, to nurture.

“I’ll bring her in,” Maria offered gently, “just for a moment. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. Just… see her. That’s all.”

You hesitated, then slowly nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. Maria gave you a small smile, squeezing your hand again before leaving the room.

A few moments later, she returned with a tiny bundle in her arms. Your baby. So small, so fragile. The baby’s eyes were closed, her tiny mouth opening and closing in search of comfort.

Maria carefully placed her in your arms, and for the first time, you looked down at your daughter. Her face was so small, her skin so soft, and suddenly, without warning, a sob broke free from your chest. The sight of her, the feel of her warmth against you, tore through all the walls you’d built.

She was a piece of you. And a piece of Joel. And despite everything, despite the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, she was here, and she was yours.

You took a shaky breath, feeling the tears flow freely down your cheeks. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

The baby stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for the briefest moment, and in that instant, you felt a small spark of something in your chest, a tiny flicker of love, a tiny piece of you.

"Hi, baby Rosie," you whispered softly, naming her after the flowers you’d always loved, the ones that somehow still managed to grow even in the worst conditions. The name felt right, like a promise of something beautiful amidst all the harshness. Rosie shifted slightly, her tiny fingers curling against your chest, and a small, tender smile broke through your tears.

Maria’s smile widened, a warm, proud light in her eyes. "That’s a beautiful name," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "Rosie… it suits her."

Just then, Tommy stepped into the room, his footsteps soft but purposeful. His gaze fell on you, cradling Rosie in your arms, and his face softened into a gentle, almost surprised smile. "Well, look at that," he said quietly, moving closer, his eyes never leaving the small bundle in your arms. "That’s my niece."

He came to your side, glancing at Maria for a moment, then back to you. There was something in his expression — a mix of relief, pride, and a kind of cautious joy. He looked down at Rosie, and you could see his eyes glisten just a little. "She’s beautiful," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat.

You nodded, your own emotions swirling, a strange mix of overwhelming love and the lingering ache of uncertainty. “She is,” you agreed softly, glancing down at your daughter. “She’s so… tiny.”

Tommy chuckled, his smile growing wider. “Yeah, they start that way,” he teased gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before his hand lightly brushed Rosie’s head. “Hey there, Rosie,” he murmured. “You’re gonna be just fine. Got your mama right here… and your uncle Tommy, too.”

Maria moved closer, wrapping an arm around Tommy’s waist. “We’re all here,” she added, her voice soft but firm. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it. You’ve got us.”

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for their presence, their support, and their love. It didn’t erase the pain or the uncertainty, but it made it a little easier to bear. Holding Rosie closer, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the warmth of this moment, to hope — even just a little — that things might be okay.

Rosie let out a tiny yawn, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, glancing up at Tommy and Maria. "For being here… for everything."

Tommy gave a slight nod, his expression tender. "We're family," he replied simply. "That’s what we do."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. Rosie began to fuss in your arms, her tiny mouth opening and closing, searching. You glanced at Maria, who gave you an encouraging nod. "It’s okay," she whispered. "She’s hungry."

You adjusted your position on the bed, feeling a mix of nervousness and instinct kicking in. As you began to unbutton your shirt to feed Rosie, you noticed Tommy standing awkwardly nearby, his eyes wide as he realized what was about to happen.

His face turned a shade redder, and he quickly looked away, trying to give you privacy. “Uh… yeah, I’ll just… I’ll, uh… step out,” he stammered, taking a step back toward the door. He paused for a moment, then added with a slight grin, “And don’t worry, I’ll never tell Joel I saw this.”

Maria burst out laughing at his awkwardness, shaking her head. “Oh, come on, Tommy. It’s just feeding a baby. You’ve seen worse.”

Tommy’s smile widened, though he kept his gaze firmly on the floor. "Yeah, but Joel’s my brother, and I don’t think he’d appreciate me having a front-row seat to… this," he muttered, his voice light with humor but his discomfort still clear.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, a bit of tension easing from your shoulders. “Thanks, Tommy,” you said, grateful for the attempt at levity in such a raw moment. “And yeah, maybe keep this one to yourself.”

Tommy gave you a playful salute. “You got it,” he said before slipping out of the room, leaving you with Maria and Rosie.

Maria moved closer, her smile warm and understanding. “You’re doing great,” she murmured. “And don’t mind Tommy. He’s just being… well, Tommy.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease. Rosie’s small movements brought your attention back to her, and you focused on the task at hand. You guided her to latch, feeling a mix of discomfort and wonder as she began to feed. For a moment, all the noise in your mind quieted, and there was just the steady rhythm of her tiny breaths, the rise and fall of your chest, and the warmth of her against you.

Maria watched with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "See?" she whispered. "You’ve got this."

You nodded slowly, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, you did.

A month had passed since Rosie was born, and the world outside felt heavier than ever. Each day, you rose with the sun, cradling your baby and navigating the delicate balance of motherhood in a world that seemed intent on breaking you. But the absence of Joel loomed larger than any other burden. His absence echoed through the quiet of your days, a painful reminder of the love you’d lost amid the chaos.

As you paced the small living space, the walls felt like they were closing in on you. The gentle cooing of Rosie contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in your heart. Every time you glanced at her, you felt a pang of anger bubble up — anger at the universe for taking him from you, anger at yourself for being so vulnerable, and anger at the endless cycle of survival that left little room for hope.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, Rosie cradled against your chest, her tiny fingers clutching your shirt. She was so innocent, so unaware of the weight that pressed down on you. You fought back tears as you watched her, the small signs of growth reminding you of everything you wished could be different. It felt unfair that she had to grow up in this world without her father, without the love and protection he could provide.

A knock at the door jolted you from your thoughts. You looked over, half-expecting to see Joel standing there, but when you opened the door, it was Tommy. His face bore the lines of concern, but you couldn't muster the energy to reciprocate his warmth.

"Hey," he greeted softly, stepping inside and glancing at Rosie, who had fallen asleep against you. “She’s getting so big.”

You forced a smile, but it felt like a mask over the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Yeah," you said, your voice lacking its usual warmth. "She is."

Tommy shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s been tough… I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

You couldn’t hold back the anger any longer. “What I’m feeling? I’m feeling like a single mother in a godforsaken world with no sign of the man I love! He should be here with us, Tommy!” Your voice raised, the emotion pouring out like a floodgate unleashed.

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he replied, his tone gentle but firm. “But we’re doing everything we can to find him. You have to believe that.”

You shook your head, stepping away from the door, feeling the walls close in even more. “What’s the point? What if he doesn’t come back? What if he never gets to meet Rosie? I can’t keep living in this limbo, waiting for something that might never happen.”

Tommy’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer. “You’re not alone, you know? Maria and I are here for you. We want to help however we can.”

You huffed, crossing your arms defensively. “Help? You can’t bring him back. No one can.” You paused. “Maria is carrying your child, Tommy. You must worry about her.”

“I do. And I also care for my niece and my sister-in-law” he answered.

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, but your frustration bubbled just below the surface. “That doesn’t change the fact that Joel should be here. He’s missing, and I can’t just sit back and pretend everything’s fine while you and Maria are about to become parents. It feels… unfair.”

Tommy’s expression grew serious. “I know it’s not easy, but you can’t push us away. We want to be here for you and Rosie. And just because Maria and I are starting a family doesn’t mean we care any less about you. We’re all in this together.”

You turned away, staring at the wall, feeling the weight of his words. Part of you wanted to reject his offer of support, to wallow in your pain and anger, but another part craved the connection and the reassurance that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you felt.

“Why can’t you just understand how hard this is for me?” you said, your voice trembling. “Every time I look at Rosie, I see everything I’ve lost. I can’t bear the thought of loving her and then losing her too.”

Tommy stepped closer, his voice lowering to a gentle tone. “You’re not going to lose her. And you’re not losing Joel either. He’s out there, and we’ll do everything we can to bring him back. But you have to let us help you through this. It’s okay to be scared, to feel overwhelmed. You don’t have to go through it all alone.”

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, you let the anger fade just a little, allowing the vulnerability to seep in.

“Okay,” you said quietly, finally letting the walls you’d built start to crumble. “Maybe I don’t know how to be strong all the time. Maybe I do need help.”

Tommy’s face broke into a warm smile, relief washing over him. “Good. Let’s take it one day at a time. I’ll help however I can. We can figure out feeding routines, and I can take care of some chores around here. Just… don’t shut us out.”

You nodded slowly, “Thank you.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the past month’s isolation slowly lifting. It wasn’t that you didn’t want help; it was that the fear of losing Joel had wrapped around you like a shroud, making it hard to see a way forward. But with Tommy’s support, a small crack of light broke through.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggested, his voice lightening a bit. “How about I take Rosie for a bit while you get some rest? You look like you could use it.”

You hesitated, glancing at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Are you sure? I don’t want to overwhelm you with her.”

Tommy chuckled softly, a hint of warmth in his voice. “I promise, I can handle a baby. Besides, I want to get to know my niece. Just give me a moment.”

You reluctantly handed Rosie over, your heart fluttering with both anxiety and relief. Watching as Tommy cradled her, a gentle smile on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in knowing she was with family.

“See? She’s in good hands,” he assured you, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I’ll take good care of her. You just take some time for yourself.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease. “Okay. Just for a little while.”

As Tommy settled into the rocking chair with Rosie, you stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. The moment you were alone, you felt the remnants of tension seep from your body, leaving you a bit lighter.

You made your way to the small bathroom, splashing cool water on your face and letting the sensation ground you. Your reflection in the mirror was a reminder of the past weeks — the sleepless nights, the tears, the fear. But beneath it all, you also saw a flicker of resilience.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped back into the living area, where the sounds of Tommy cooing at Rosie filled the space. It was a simple moment, but it felt monumental. You could see how much Tommy genuinely cared, and the thought made your heart swell.

As you joined them, settling onto the couch across from him, you watched the two of them. “What are you talking about?” you asked, a playful curiosity tugging at your lips.

Tommy looked up with a grin. “Just telling her all the stories about her uncle. I was quite the troublemaker, you know.”

“Oh really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine that.”

He laughed; the sound infectious. “You should have seen me. I could charm anyone out of trouble… except for Joel. He always saw right through me.”

You felt a small smile break through as you listened to him reminisce. It was a distraction you desperately needed, a chance to be reminded of the good things in life even amidst the chaos.

As the minutes passed, you began to feel a shift within yourself — a softening of the hard edges that grief had carved into your heart. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they once seemed. Maybe, with time and support, you could learn to navigate this new chapter alongside Rosie, surrounded by family who cared.

And as you watched Tommy bounce Rosie gently, you allowed yourself to entertain a sliver of hope. Perhaps Joel would find his way back to you, and until then, you had a new purpose to embrace, even in the absence of the one you loved.

A few days later, the air in the infirmary was thick with the familiar scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of muted conversations. You sat on a worn-out chair, cradling Rosie in your arms as you watched Paul examine her. The little one was wrapped snugly in a soft blanket, her tiny features serene as she slept.

Paul, focused on his task, checked Rosie’s vitals, his brow furrowed in concentration. You could see the care in his movements, the way he gently examined her delicate limbs and listened to her heartbeat. After a moment, he straightened up, turning his attention to you.

“She’s doing well,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “Gaining weight, which is a good sign. Just keep an eye on her feeding schedule.”

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride. “I’ve been trying my best.”

Paul offered a small smile before his expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Okay,” you replied, bracing yourself for what might come next.

Paul’s gaze dropped, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. “See, I told you he wasn’t going to come back.”

The words struck you like a blow, igniting a spark of anger deep within. “What do you mean?” you snapped, your voice rising. “You’re just going to give up on him like that?”

“I'm not giving up,” Paul said quickly, his tone defensive. “I’m trying to prepare you for the reality of this situation.”

“Reality?” you echoed, disbelief flooding your voice. “You think I don’t know what reality is? You think I want to believe he’s gone? I can’t just accept that!”

He held up his hands, trying to calm the storm brewing inside you. “I understand. But holding onto hope for too long can be dangerous. It can lead to more pain.”

“More pain?” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You think I haven’t felt pain? You think it doesn’t hurt to think about him every single day, wondering if he’s, okay? Wondering if he’s thinking of us?”

Paul’s expression softened, but the seriousness remained. “I just don’t want you to be hurt even more when the reality sinks in.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, frustration and sorrow bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t get to dictate how I feel, Paul! You can’t just stand there and tell me to give up on someone I love. Joel is out there. I know he is. He wouldn’t leave us. He wouldn’t abandon me and Rosie.”

“I wish I could believe that as much as you do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you need to face the possibility that he’s not coming back. It’s not about giving up; it’s about being realistic.”

“Realistic?” you shot back, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “You think being realistic means I should stop hoping? That I should stop fighting for him? You’re wrong. If there’s even the slightest chance that he’s out there, I’m not going to let it go. Not now, not ever.”

Paul stepped closer; concern etched on his face. “You can’t do this alone. You need support, and right now, your focus should be on Rosie. She needs you.”

The mention of Rosie made the anger in your chest swirl into something more painful—guilt. “I know she needs me,” you said, your voice dropping. “But how can I be there for her when a part of me feels like it’s dying inside? How can I pretend everything is okay when I’m terrified of what the future holds without him?”

Paul’s expression softened further, and for a moment, you could see the struggle in his eyes. “I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m just trying to help you navigate this. You’re not alone in this fight, and we’re all here for you, ready to support you.”

Taking a deep breath, you felt the walls you had built around your heart beginning to crack. “I don’t want to lose him, Paul. I can’t. Not now, when I finally have a family of my own.”

“Then let us help you,” he urged, his voice earnest. “Let us be your family. We’ll do this together, one day at a time.”

You met his gaze, searching for a glimmer of hope, and found only sincerity. “I don’t know how,” you admitted, feeling the weight of your despair.

“Just start by being present,” he said gently. “For Rosie. For yourself. We’ll figure out the rest as we go. You’re stronger than you think, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

You shook your head, “No. I will never going to feel love for you, Paul”

Paul’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and hurt flashing across his face. “I wasn’t asking you to love me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with disappointment. “I’m just trying to be here for you, to help you through this.”

“Help? You mean take Joel’s place?” you shot back, frustration bubbling over. “I can’t just forget about him, Paul. I won’t. I loved him, and I still do.”

“I get that,” he replied, his tone softening. “But you need to start living for yourself and Rosie. Holding onto Joel’s memory is one thing, but shutting everyone else out is another. You’re pushing away the people who care about you.”

You carefully shifted Rosie in your arms, holding her close as you locked eyes with Paul. “It’s her and me and Tommy and Maria; they are my family,” you said firmly, the protective instinct for your little girl rising within you. “You will never be part of that.”

Paul’s face fell, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. “I understand that you feel this way, but it doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

“I’m sorry for being honest about it,” you continued, feeling a mixture of regret and resolve. “But having a daughter and being alone doesn’t make me a damsel in distress. I’m doing the best I can, and I won’t pretend to want something I don’t.”

His brows furrowed, and he took a step back as if your words had physically struck him. “I never thought of you as a damsel in distress. I see your strength, but it’s hard to see you pushing away those who want to help. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I appreciate that you care, Paul, but I don’t want help that comes with strings attached,” you insisted. “You may want to be there for me, but I’m not ready for that. My focus is Rosie, and I need to figure this out on my own.”

“I just want to be a part of your life, to support you both,” he replied, his voice softening. “I know it’s not easy, but I can be there for you without trying to replace Joel. I can respect that.”

You felt your heart ache “I said no.”

You felt your heart ache as the weight of his words hung in the air. “I said no,” you reiterated firmly, standing up from the chair, cradling Rosie closer to your chest. “I can’t do this right now, Paul. I need space.”

Paul opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but then he hesitated, the look in his eyes shifting from concern to resignation. “I get it,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just want what’s best for you and Rosie.”

You turned away, the tears threatening to spill over as you fought to keep your composure. “What’s best for me is to be left alone to figure this out. I have to focus on my daughter.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. You could feel Paul’s gaze on you, a mix of hurt and confusion in his expression, but you steeled yourself against it. You couldn’t let the guilt of his disappointment sway your decision.

“I’ll come back for the check-up,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “But I need time to breathe, Paul. Please respect that.”

As you moved toward the door, you felt a pang of regret and relief. You opened the door, taking one last look at him. His expression was concerned and sad, but you knew this was what you needed.

As you stepped back into your small, cozy home, the door closing softly behind you, the weight of the world seemed to lift, even if just for a moment. You looked down at Rosie, her tiny eyes fluttering as she began to settle in your arms. Her soft breath was a reminder that despite everything, there was love and hope right here in your arms.

“Shh, Rosie. We’re home now,” you whispered gently, brushing your lips against her forehead. “It’s just you and me, baby girl. We’re gonna be okay.”

Her little hand gripped your shirt, and the corners of your mouth tugged into a small smile. The bond you felt with her was something no one could break. As you moved toward the rocking chair by the window, the soft glow of the setting sun bathed the room in a warm light. You gently lowered yourself into the chair, cradling Rosie close, rocking her slowly.

"You're so beautiful, Rosie," you murmured, watching her tiny face relax into sleep. "Your daddy would love you so much. He'll love you so much when he gets back. He’s coming back, sweetheart. I know he is."

The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that usually made your heart ache with Joel's absence. But tonight, with Rosie in your arms, that silence felt different—more peaceful, fuller. You hummed softly, rocking back and forth as Rosie’s breathing became steadier.

A melody drifted from your lips, a lullaby that Joel had once hummed to you on restless nights:

"Hush now, my darling, close your eyes,

The world is waiting, but not tonight."

Your voice trembled at the end, a lump forming in your throat as you pictured Joel. You imagined him here, sitting beside you, watching Rosie with that rare, soft smile he reserved for moments when his guard was down. He would hold her, kiss her tiny forehead, and tell you everything was going to be alright.

But as you sang, the warmth of Rosie’s little body against yours made you feel stronger than you thought you could be. She was the piece of Joel you held onto, the reminder of the life you were fighting to build, even if he wasn’t here now. You kissed her head, breathing in her soft baby scent, as you whispered the last words of the song:

"Sleep now, my love, you're safe in my arms,

One day you'll see all the world’s gleams.

But for today's, it's just you and me,

And we’ll wait for him, just wait and see."

Tears pricked your eyes, but this time, there was a sense of peace. You had your daughter, and she had you. For now, that was enough.

You rocked Rosie gently, her tiny body sinking deeper into sleep with each passing minute. Her soft breathing was steady, and her hand had finally relaxed its grip on your shirt. Carefully, you rose from the rocking chair, cradling her to your chest as you walked across the room to her crib.

“There you are, baby girl,” you whispered as you placed her down, tucking a blanket around her small form. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm, her little face serene in the dim light of the room. For a moment, everything felt calm, as though the world outside didn't exist.

Just as you turned, a quiet knock came from the open door. You spun around to see Tommy standing there, a small smile on his face.

"Hey," he whispered, but the sound was still too loud in the quiet room.

You held a finger to your lips, motioning toward the crib. "Shh, Rosie just fell asleep," you murmured, stepping toward him.

Tommy nodded, lowering his voice further. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was just checkin’ in…”

Before you could respond, you noticed someone, standing behind Tommy, half-hidden by the doorframe. You blinked, your breath catching in your throat, your heart pounding in your ears.

It was Joel.

Your mind struggled to process the sight of him, standing there, looking worn and weary but alive. The moment stretched out as if time had slowed. His eyes, filled with an intensity you hadn’t seen in months, locked onto yours. It was as though the entire world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Ellie was there too, just behind him. Her gaze seemed lost and weary.

Joel took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, but before he could come closer, you found yourself speaking, your voice sharp and surprising even to yourself.

“No.”

He stopped, his expression shifting from relief to confusion. Ellie, standing behind him, looked just as surprised, her eyes wide, and the exhaustion in her posture deepened. The room felt tense, charged with emotions you weren’t ready to face.

“No?” Joel repeated softly, his brows furrowing, unsure of how to respond.

You shook your head, taking a shaky breath. “You left,” you whispered, feeling the weight of months of fear, anger, and hurt bubbling to the surface.

Joel took another cautious step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of rejection. When he saw none, he closed the distance between you in an instant, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame. The familiar warmth of his embrace washed over you, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

You buried your face in his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His heartbeat was strong and steady, grounding you in a way you had been desperately missing. Joel’s arms tightened around you as if he were afraid to let go, his grip protective, comforting. He pressed his face against the top of your head, exhaling a shaky breath.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking. The tears came then, spilling over as months of fear, anger, and loneliness poured out of you all at once. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with guilt. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

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Tormented Spirit | 2

Part 1 2 3

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, smut (piv, loss of virginity, fingering, semi-public sex, Daemon talking you through it), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation/murder, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i am surprised I got as many comments as I did on chapter 1 🥺🫶 it's not that I think my writing is bad... Well... Idk it felt aimless when I started so I am grateful for the positive reinforcement. 👉👈 I am once again asking for more pls comment n reblog I would love u forever if u did | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

Daemon heads to your chambers, eager to shake you awake and ruin your morning once more. When he arrives to the room, he stops in his tracks, disappointed to see you were risen. That is, until he realizes the state you were in.

You roused long before the sun had and could not find sleep no matter how badly you searched. You decided to draw yourself a warm bath in hopes of finding sleep in the tub; you only find more restlessness and simply accept your fate.

You hear Daemon's entrance and turn to him from the vanity you were wallowing. You were half dressed. Your corset was undone and you had given up on braiding the sides of your head. You smile weakly at him, "good morrow."

Nothing about your tired, sullen eyes agreed with that, and it irritates him to know that you're one of those people. Pretenders.

"Well, finish up then," Daemon furrows his brows, "get dressed. We have yet to accomplish our task."

You mimic his expression, brushing your dark hair back, "task?"

He rolls his eyes, "I do not believe yesterday counts as an introduction."

Upon realizing he meant the introduction to Caraxes, your body tenses. You look sick. You stand to try and convince him out of it, but Daemon reaches you before you can get on your feet. He places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. Your heart thunders when he brushes your hair to one shoulder. He secures your dress from behind, and your breath grows heavy as you watch him from the mirror.

"It is not so bad, riding a dragon," the prince says to plant a false sense of trust in you, "who knows? You might enjoy it."

There is an unnatural warmth that spills across your form when your husband then completes your braids. He weaves in a manner far gentler than Gwayne ever has. It makes your lips part.

He brings you to your feet. Daemon takes in your expression, lips curling slightly, "there you are, wife."

Your brows knit.

He knew his artificial gentleness has you off-guard. There is no better moment to have you do his bidding than now.

One might be surprised to know that Caraxes actually enjoyed having you on his back, as did Daemon, not because they suddenly liked you— gods no, but because the sound of your screams were oh-so satisfying.

You could do little else but release cries of terror as you clung to your husband from behind. Daemon made it a point to do flips and all sorts of unnecessarily moves whilst flying, hoping your hold would falter. The time you spent in the air felt like eternity. It seemed your husband was set on touring the entire 7 realms.

You never thought you would be so ever happy to see the pit. The pit could not say the same about you however. You spill your guts out to the floor exactly like the first time you were here.

Daemon makes a face. He turns to the keepers and orders them to clean your mess up, lest it get on Caraxes' claw.

Woe is you who is forced to repeat the exact thing the next morning. You could not even plead your case, for your throat was sore. The sound of your screams this time were not as entertaining to Daemon, as your voice is hoarse. At some point, the terror is too great, you cannot scream. Because of this, he cuts the flight short in boredom, excited instead at the promise of watching you suffer through another retch. But, oh, by the gods, were you an inconveniencing woman.

Instead of remaining consistent, you just had to make a show and faint into him, did you?

He could not care less for you, which is why he chucks you off into the arms of a dragon keeper, but the damned old man could no longer carry such a weight, and so he was begrudgingly forced to throw you over his shoulder and bring you to a maester himself.

In truth, he'd all forgotten about his wife fainting until the next morning, when he came to the maester's quarters to ask for something to soothe his hammering head from his heavy drinking the night before. He was, in fact, offended, when the maester insinuated that he had come to check up on his bride.

Before he could give the greying maester a piece of his mind, he hears a terrible voice barking from the ward. Its grating timbre made it clear to Daemon that Lord Hand Cunttower was off on a yapping session again.

He walks deeper into the room. Weeping sounds become audible.

"—no, you do not understand," Otto snaps, hunched over at the side of your bed.

Ah, twas you who was being terrorized.

You dare not turn to your father, for you knew your throat would only tighten more that it already has. You force yourself to take deep breaths, but it's easier said than done. You remain still on the bed you laid on.

"You must sire as many children as your body can take, or you will die," the man says.

But you were dying anyway.

"The process will not be pleasant."

Nothing is pleasant.

"It will hurt-"

Everything hurts.

"-but it is a better fate than-"

"Enough!" you snap, glaring at him with angry, red eyes. You repeat, though your voice is weaker, "enough, enough, eno-"

Otto gravely speaks your name. Your body recognized the danger, but having realized upon waking up to the face of a maester, it mattered little where or who it came from, you were destined to hurt- to die.

"Do not fall complacent be-"

"You are no longer my lord," you quip. Sweat forms on your nape. This is the first time you've ever interrupted your father.

He is gobsmacked. He is bewildered. His back straightens, "what?"

You feel yourself descend into heavy fraught. Your saliva tries to choke you.

"What," he presses, "did you say, girl?"

"You are my father," your voice falters, "but not my lord."

Otto's face warps.

Your breath grows shorter and shorter, "my liege lord is my-" pant "-husband, and what he-" pant "-desires, I will-" pant "-do."

Daemon's ears and brows perk at your misplaced loyalty. Part of him wants to laugh out loud and make himself known, but then he sees, even from where he stood, how it got Otto twisted. He chuckles to himself instead.

Your father enunciates as though he means to stab you with them, "you stupid fucking whore."

You crumble like chalk. You fall into another round of body arresting tremors. Your chest is tight and you screw your eyes painfully shut. It becomes apparent to Daemon, as it would anyone who'd witness, where your condition sourced. Otto grabs your shoulders, "you know nothing of-" but then recoils.

Daemon shoves him away, glaring as he says, "unhand her."

Otto manages to balance himself, but he looks as though the veins on his temples were about to pop. He clenches his jaw, "I am speaking to my daughter."

"You mean at her," his silver hair slips over his shoulder as he turns to you, "she does not look like she can hold conversation."

"This is personal matter," Otto steps forward.

"Mmm," Daemon turns back to him, "I do say, I am glad to have interrupted," he shifts on his leg, linking his fingers together, "a dutiful husband should know all personal matters of his wife. Don't you agree?"

Though you were still wrestling with yourself, you heard every word. You knew if you did not interject, they will fight each other for your carcass. You feel lightheaded, but you force yourself to open your eyes and speak.

Of course, the only sound you manage to make is a strangled and pained one.

Otto averts his attention to you, and tries to come to your side.

Daemon steps in front of him and tilts his head back, "oh... I would adore it if you give me a reason to kill you."

You choke out, "Daemon."

Your father stiffens as he looks past the said man to inspect you, missing the way said man smirks. Otto turns back to Daemon, feeling bile spread in his mouth as the prince says, "see. She does not want you."

Otto's lips curl and his hands ball into fists.

Your husband waves a hand, "go away. You're clearly upsetting her."

Otto does the most to remain calm, "she is my da-"

"She is my wife," Daemon snaps, imposing upon him.

You gulp with difficulty as you catch the way your father's jaw clenches. You force yourself to sit up and open your mouth to speak, but everyone's attention is averted to the Kingsguard that walks into the room.

Daemon's forehead curls at the Cargyll knight, "my prince. Lord Hand."

"Which one are you?" asks the prince.

"Arryk, my prince."

"State your business, Arryk."

"I-"

"I requested a ward for the princess," Lord Hand answers instead.

Daemon makes a face at him and chuckles dryly under his breath.

Arryk looks between the two again then slowly continues, "I and my brother have been awarded the honor of serving ward to the Princess of Dragonstone. I take first watch today."

Daemon chuckles again, "a bit late, aren't you?"

The white cloak stiffens then bows, "I was just given word this hour."

"Hmm. Well, Arryk," he motions, "why don't you go escort the Lord Hand out of the room before someone dies."

He stiffens again, but turns to the said man nonetheless. He does not question it and merely does what was instructed.

Or at least tries to.

"I do not trust you with my daughter's well-being," Otto steps forward, pointing a finger to the ground, "you are the very reason she is in that bed."

Daemon gasps dramatically. At this point, you finally had enough wits about you to speak, "please-" but your voice is easily drowned out however.

"Do you not remember thanking my brother for the, what was it," the prince pretends to think, "joyous union? Or would you like to watch me stake my claim upon he—"

Otto's face twists in horror and repulsion, but that is not why Daemon's words are cut short. It is because of the cold, clammy, trembling hand that takes his own that he looks down. He watches as you sigh out, "leave us, father."

The said man turns to you in grave offence. In your fear, you do not notice the betrayal that is mixed with it. His anger flares and he scoffs. He gives you one last look, and you knew exactly it was just that. This would be last time he would ever look upon you. When he storms away, you feel it in your chest: this is the last time you will ever call him father. You were forsaken, truly forsaken.

Otto is seen out by Arryk.

Your hand slips from Daemon's, as you no longer had the strength. You muster all your remaining energy to reach the drink propped on your bedside table. It was a futile attempt though, as instead of grasping it, you knock it over, which only leads you into another fit of tears.

Daemon curses and shakes his foot that's gotten soaked. He did mean to snap at you for it, but you were already clearly suffering. Your breathing is short and it seemed like you were mumbling something.

He hunches over in an attempt to hear you, "what?"

It takes a myriad of repetitions for him to realize you were apologizing.

His face contorts, "gods," what pathetic creature had he been given to?

Daemon's upper lip curls and he can no longer bear the sound of your whining any further. He calls for the maester, asking for another cup of water because you had knocked over your own. Just as the maester goes off to get you another drink, he remembers he came here for his own affliction because his head begins to hammer again. He rubs his temples and sits on the vacant bed besides yours.

"Here, my prince," the maester says upon arrival, "milk of the poppy enough for the both of you."

Daemon squints as the man places a tray on your bedside table. Daemon is handed a cup first, but does not drink it until after he watches you be helped to drink your own fill. After, the maester promptly leaves with a curt nod. The drink does not take effect on you until after Daemon finishes his own

Your voice shakes, "t-thank you."

Daemon puts his cup down.

"You did not have to come," you say softly.

"Do not flatter yourself," he scoffs, "I did not come for you. I came for my headache."

"Yet it remains," you turn to him, face tight and gleaming from all the tears you've shed, "you did not have to come."

He stares at you for a moment. You looked so frail, so devoid of hope. Truly, death would be mercy to you at this point.

Just then, ser Arryk returns. He finally sees you and gives you a deep bow, "princess."

Being addressed as such makes you feel sad... and lonely.

"I am ser Arryk Cargyll. I will be your ward, along with my twin brother, Erryk, who you will meet after my shift." The kingsguard straightens up, "I will do all that I can to ensure your health does not falter and that you are always seen to."

You think of your own twin as you take in the man's features. The idea that your father purposefully chose twin brothers as your ward made you feel sad and sick, but it was hardly Arryk's fault Otto liked mocking you, so you smile at him, "I have a twin."

The man nods, offering you a smile far more genuine than yours, "aye. Ser Gwayne Hightower. He is deft with the short sword."

You turn to your hands, recalling just a few days ago when you had watched him train. Your lips curl upwards, "though, not as good as I."

Daemon pulls his head back, face contorting. He is taken aback when Arryk's sniggers. The latter nods, "perhaps you will show me your tricks, my lady."

There is a twinkle in your eye as you turn back to him, "perhaps."

Daemon raises a brow at the interaction and decides to stand, "come," he reaches a hand to you, "some fresh air would do you good."

Fresh air? Your jaw slacks and you turn to Daemon with a fallen expression. Be as it was, you were no fool. You did not believe your husband had your best interest in mind, and yet, it was not like you had much of a choice. Against yourself, you to take his hand.

He pulls you up and Arryk comes to your side to assist you. He helps you to your feet, hand on your arm and shoulder.

Daemon is annoyed by his fussing. "Yes. Very good, Cargyll. I can manage to bring her to the dragon pit myself."

You close your eyes and sigh. Just as your dreaded.

"Dragon pit?" Arryk repeats.

"Yes. She needs fresh air." The prince narrows his eyes, "do you contest me?"

Arryk releases you and shakes his head, "I would not."

"Good," he motions with nod, "out of the way then."

You see, after being scorched by the fire of your maker— your father, the sight of Caraxes emerging from the depths did not strike as much fear into you as it did before. In fact, the promise of malice from the beast felt... cathartic, and for once, you welcomed Daemon's insistence on being brought to its maw.

You stumbled against Caraxes' scaly cheek. Having done nothing but lay in the maester's chambers, your hair was not tied or braided in any way. As the wind blew, it tickled against the dragon's face. Caraxes did not seem to enjoy the sensation, and so he growled and snapped his teeth.

Daemon was quick to chastise his mount, and for that, he did not realize your lack of self-preservation. Oh, but Caraxes did; he even growled again, only to be met once more by your unflinching demeanor.

Daemon would only realize your change after taking flight and landing on a beach. Upon dismounting, Caraxes takes it upon himself to screech as you hover. The prince doesn't know who is more bewildered, him or his dragon, when you screech back.

Your neck veins pop and spit comes out of your mouth at the intensity of it all. A harsh wind blows your hair and your skirt. You heave after releasing such a harsh noise.

In truth, perhaps Caraxes is more perturbed as, unlike Daemon's who presses forward, the beast pulls back and shakes his head. He bleats as he watches his rider grab your arm.

The prince means to berate you for your insanity, but then, gods, you rather conveniently succumb to another arrest to your heart and lungs. He does not know why he catches you when your legs give in but he knows exactly why he suggests: "get in the water."

You look up at him, your glassy eyes meeting his violet ones.

He lets you crumble to the ground and bends down to undo your dress, "a swim would do you wonders."

"N-no- you will regret-" you sputter.

But Daemon ignores you, not that it took much effort, for you were incoherent soon enough.

He pulls you out of your dress until you're in nothing but your slip. You sob, and he hushes you, assuring he will be by your side. He removes his tunic. Soon, he is dragging you down deeper and deeper, and you are choking and spitting saltwater.

Daemon decides to simply release you and wait until your body floats lifeless. With how you were gasping, it would not take long. He turns his head when his face is splashed by your flailing arms. When he looks back, the water is calm and your body is nowhere to be seen.

... well, that was rather quick.

He waits for a moment, watching bubbles float up. After a while, he purses his lips and decides to go back ashore. He should have done this sooner.

He freezes when you emerge in front of him, pushing your brown hair off your face. He is perturbed by the serenity across your features; it was as though you were reborn.

You sigh, "I told you you would regret it."

Daemon blankly stares at you.

"There is a great river in Oldtown," you wade around, "the water there is not nearly as pleasant or warm as this, but still... swimming was one of the only ways I could calm myself."

His jaw clenches. He does not even try to hide his disappointment.

You lick your lips at it and turn to Caraxes, who was happily soaking in the sun from the sandy shore, "take heart. Your dragon might entertain himself by eating me yet," you turn to him, "or perhaps my Lord Hand will kill me himself."

His face twists, "what?"

You shake your head and roll your eyes.

He pulls his head back, offended and confused by your sudden nerve.

You allow your body to float up in the water, "you need not pretend. I know you long to kill me."

Daemon is insulted by your brashness. He grabs your floating hip and pushes you down until you're once again face to face. Not a semblance of fear is on your features. It only angers him further.

He snaps, "I could have your tongue for that."

He cannot deny the way his stomach rolls when you place your hands by the base of his neck. The complete change in your temperament puts him on edge. Have you been playing him all along?

"Would it not be simpler to have my head?" you speak plainly, as though you were genuinely curious of his response.

His nostrils flare.

Before he can act, you are swimming off. You emerge from the water, dripping wet. Your clothing is sheer and hugs every part of your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could not help but look, but then he was sorely insulted all over when you pet Caraxes head and he lets you.

It was a twisted hallucination. He is suddenly reminded of the milk of the poppy he'd drank; you've probably poisoned him and planned all of this with your cunt father like the conniving whore you really were.

You do not hear him emerge, but only know he did because he is upon you. He forces you around through a severe squeeze on your arms, "what is your game, Hightower cunt?!"

Your body seizes, but you do not succumb to the thundering of your heart, as you had just been relaxed.

He shakes you, making you gasp, "SPEAK!"

"There is no game!" you whimper.

He chuckles dryly, shaking you harshly once more "perhaps it should be said that need I no assistance from my dragon to kill you."

A shiver runs down your spine, "please-"

"Then tell me th-"

"-just do it."

The sound of Caraxes huffing brings Daemon back to reality. And yet it takes you speaking, "just kill me," for him to realize you meant exactly what he thought.

He stills where you descend into further torment. He knows then that it is true. There was no plot, or at least not one where this creature of agony could ever oversee. You were calmed by the water, but not cured. Very truly, he thinks again death would be mercy, convenient for him as well. Yet, in his nature, Daemon does opposite of what he is told and pries his hands off. He mutters under his breath, "ao mūdas run," you terrible thing.

You sob, as if you understood him.

You shed tears unlike the others he's witnessed; there is no panic or fear, only pain.

"Surely you agree it is better than living this way."

The clarity of your voice takes him aback. He turns away, uncomfortable of your sudden agency.

"I have been this way since I can remember," you confess, "and they've all have counted my days for just as long."

"Why must I bloody my hands for you?" he squints, "if you despise living so much, do it yourself."

Your laugh is haunting. You shake your head and wipe your face, "I am not as brave as you. I could not even kill the fishes Gwayne caught for me, though I ate them."

Daemon is unmoved, twice so at the mention of your brother.

"And Gwayne..." you sigh, "he would blame himself." You turn to your feet, warmed by the sand beneath it, "I would not do that to him." You shake your head again, "but again, take heart," you smile, "it will happen soon enough."

His forehead curls.

"I can feel it in my gut," you rub your belly, "it is putrid and festering... whatever it is."

He tilts his head, "then do me a favor and wallow in silence—" he walks off, sparing one last glance, "and try scheming with your cunt father somewhere you will not be caught."

You manically laugh and rip at your hair, "he is my illness, if it is not plain to you."

He stops and turns back to you.

"I am the way that I am because I-" you poke your chest, "am he, had he been born a woman." You rub your sternum, "he loathes me because he is I. I am his hair, his nose, his temper, his... weakness, only amplified because I did not inherit his cock.

"When I pray..." you sniffle, "sometimes I think the gods keep me alive for I am his reckoning— that I must torment him for all the years he has tormented others... tormented me."

Daemon watches the salt from your eyes join the salt on your slip. He stares at your pert nipples then watches you chew your lower lip. He licks his own, "did you mean what you told him?"

You watch as he inches closer, "what?"

"That he is no longer your liege lord," he reaches for your arm, "that I am."

"I-"

Daemon pushes the shoulder of your slip dress down.

Your hand darts to his chest, "i-it is the truth."

He hums and tilts his head. You gasp when he kisses your neck. He licks the saltwater off your skin, enjoying the sound you make when his teeth graze you, "very well then."

Goosebumps form when he pulls your skirt up your thighs.

"It would be beneath a prince to withhold aid for such a tormented spirit."

You do not speak for soon his mouth is claiming yours. It is not as horrid as you imagined it would be. You did not think someone who's shown nothing but aggression could behold you so tenderly. You shiver when he continues to rid you of your sopping clothes. When you break away for air, you manage to mutter, "someone c-could see."

Daemon's expression is changed as stares at you and pushes you to the ground. You gasp as you find yourself atop the garbs he already managed to remove. He undoes his breeches, "who? My dragon?"

You do not know if he means Caraxes.

"You are my wife," he drops to his knees, grabbing yours, "the sin lies with the looker," he pushes your legs apart, "not us."

You bite your lips, feeling the the need to repel him, but decide against it. You simply close your eyes and dig your fingers into the sand.

His loins burn at the sound of your sigh. He sinks into you and relishes your submission. He wraps your legs around him and rocks his hips into yours. You mewl and dig into his back. He bites your lobe before whispering, "you belong to me."

You scratch your nails up his back as his rocking hips send bolts of pleasure in your body.

"Say it."

"I-I-" you heave, "belong to you."

He squeezes your thighs, "you are to do what I so desire."

Your gasp softly when he grabs your jaw, making you turn to him.

"-especially if it is against your father, yes?"

You gulp, unable to speak. You simply nod.

Daemon's eyes become hooded. He releases your jaw, claiming your thigh again, "good."

You both remain this way, kissing and rubbing, but then you begin to grow impatient. You bring your mouth to his to catch his attention but do not kiss him. He is taken aback by your unintentional tease and digs his fingers into your flesh. This is why you whimper as you speak, "you- can... enter."

He is broken from his trance, "what?"

"I," you scratch his skin gently, as if to encourage him, "know you are ready. You do not have to hold back. I am accustomed to pain."

He knits his brows, then tilts his head, "how could a virgin know such things?"

He watches bashfulness claim you. You shake your head, "I read it."

"Did your book not tell you it need not be painful?"

"I-" you let out a loud noise when you feel his fingers touch your womanhood, "Daemon-"

He purrs at the sound of his name, "I will show you how good it can feel so that you can tell your father all about it."

The horrifying thought does not even register as he makes you feel things you did not know possible. You begin to shiver and whine, but it is entirely opposite to what your body is accustomed to. Your breath begins to shorten and you instinctively begin to panic, but Daemon's voice keeps you grounded.

"Breathe," he licks your pulse, "it feels good, does it not? Breathe and think of how good I'm making you feel."

You are entirely subservient to him, to his baritone, to his fingers, to his hips. There is nothing but sand and Daemon. You whine when you feel a hard intrusion. The sensation is foreign, and it causes your belly to tense.

He kisses the line that forms between your brows, "relax, my wife. Now is not the time for pain," he hooks his hands behind your knees, "it's a time for pleasure."

It's all a blurry haze after this. Daemon moves into you in a way that makes you wonder how this could ever hurt. Every thrust sends ripples of bliss down your spine. Every hit draws out the lewdest of sounds from your throat. You understand then why they call it love making; you love every moment of it. Your bliss is heightened when he touches something inside you, and again, and again-

For once in your life, as your breath grows heavy, you do not feel like you're about to die.

Daemon alternates tempos, but ultimately resigns to fast and hard. He does not cease until your rigid body goes limp beneath him. The pressure in your stomach breaks into a million burning pieces, and just as it becomes all too much, he pulls out, propping himself up on one arm. You gasp at the heat the spills on your thigh as he strokes himself. Soon, his arm gives out and he collapses beside you.

You behold the mess of red and white between your legs, but find no shame, only arousal, which you did not expect. You turn to your husband, watching his chest heave, his temples sweat, and his tongue lick his lips.

He's... he's beautiful.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 12

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 11 | Series Masterlist | Part 13

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.7k

Chapter Summary: Bucky gets under your skin when he takes you shopping.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dirty talk, mild dubcon (kissing, touching), tension, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, gaslighting, manipulation, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and hope you enjoy! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure how much time passed with Bucky’s head resting in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly moving through his hair. While his body relaxed, you remained rigid. You tried to think of positive things. Your upcoming trip to the winery, Addison’s wedding. The images in your mind darkened though as if a cloud loomed over them. In a way, it did because you didn’t know what Bucky had planned for those events. Because even if Bucky really let you go to the winery alone, someone would be watching.

You forced the cloud in your mind to lift. Things could still be positive. You could still have a good day and have the best time with your friends.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work,” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your thigh and lifting his head with a smile. The darkness had left his eyes. How long until it returned? “Thank you for calming me down.”

“Of course,” you echoed because what else could you do?

Brushing his pants off once he got to his feet, he helped you up and didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t attempt to pull away. He made sure to grab the money you left on the table before he paid the server and you tried to give the poor guy a smile when you thanked him. You just wanted to get on with your day.

As Bucky led you out of the cafe and back to the shop, you caught Ray’s gaze as he stood by the car and waited for his boss. Whatever concern he showed for you faded when he blinked. How did he deal with this life? Would he ever walk away from it?

“I’ll pick you up after work then?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” you said. You didn’t tell him when your shift ended, but he knew, didn’t he? “Thanks for lunch.”

“It was my pleasure, but one more thing.” Bucky stopped you before you could enter the shop. “This regular customer you mentioned earlier. How often does he stop in?”

He asked as if he had no idea and maybe he didn’t in this case. That assumption didn’t ease your worries. “Once a month,” you said, your stomach turning slightly. “Listen, the roses he tried to give to me, I gave them to him first. They were his usual order and I thought it would be nice gesture and I was just-”

His brows pinched a little as his hands gently framed your cheeks. “Kotyonok, why do you sound so upset?” He asked, his thumbs moving in a soothing motion as you took a deep breath. “Wait, are you scared that I’d be mad at you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t necessarily think he’d be upset with you, but after his mood swings at lunch and everything else so far you weren't sure what to expect. “I just don't know.”

“No, no, no, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad that you were kind to another person? That’s one of the things I love about you. It drew me to you,” he assured you. You oddly felt better by his assurance. “I don’t want you to stop doing kind things for others because you’re worried it might upset me.”

“So, it doesn’t upset you?”

“You being you would never upset me,” he smiled. He had said more than once that he loved you as a person, so maybe he was telling the truth. “A man trying to give flowers to you while going through a break-up is, at the very least, a little strange.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said, not wanting to admit that he had a point and that you were slightly put off when Clark tried to give the roses to you.

“I’m also well aware that you don’t hit on any guy who comes into your shop, so I wouldn’t view any act of kindness to a customer as trying to get their attention.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. Even Ray had pointed out to you that you didn’t give guys in the shop the time of day. Why would you when most of them were buying flowers for someone else? “But I just wanted you to know.”

“I appreciate you telling me, but you have nothing to worry about. Just have a good rest of the day.” With a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he whispered, “I’ll be thinking of you until I see you again.”

You weren’t sure why your heart fluttered. Relief that Bucky reacted calmly to what you said? You didn’t dwell on it as he held the door open and smiled after you as you went back into the shop. It was time to concentrate on work again.

Mrs. Crandle smiled and waved to Bucky through the door. “Oh, he is a looker,” she winked. “How was lunch, dear?”

“The food was good and Bucky and I got to talk a bit, which was… nice,” you answered, glancing around the shop and wondering if the place was bugged, too. Could he get access to the shop? Letting you continue to work seemed too good to be true, but he’d have nothing to worry about if he had eyes and ears there, too. “He’s taking me shopping tonight.”

She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And don’t you dare be modest. Let him spoil you.”

“I have a feeling he’ll spoil me even if I don't ask him to,” you said.

Your whole experience with Bucky was whether you wanted it or not, so why would he stop now?

As expected, Bucky arrived back at the shop a few hours later to pick you up. Instead of giving him the chance to go inside and speak to Mrs. Crandle again, you grabbed your bag and rushed out the door to greet him. He caught you easily when you nearly collided with him, and for the first time, you felt like you were intruding in his space instead of the other way around.

“Eager to see me?” He smiled, his voice teasing as he kept a hand on your shoulder and helped you into the vehicle when you didn’t immediately answer. “How was the rest of your shift? I hope no one else bothered you.”

Just you.

“It was uneventful. I got a lot done,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you from the normalcy of your afternoon. “And no one bothered me.” Your gaze flickered to him and he was hanging onto your every word. He also looked much more relaxed, like the moodiness at lunch never happened. “How about you? How was your day?”

“Also uneventful. A couple of boring calls. Kept thinking about you though and it got me through the day,” he said, slipping an arm around you as the car door closed. The way you two were speaking to each other sounded almost normal. Checking in on each other, seeing how the other was doing. “Steve asked about that double date.”

“I’m sure he’s excited for that,” you said, wondering if that poor coat check girl had any idea.

“We both are. You can find a dress for that, too,” he smiled fondly. “In fact, what would you think of me getting you a new wardrobe when you move in? Your style, your choice on everything. You name it.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” You hadn’t done anything to deserve a whole new set of clothes and you hoped he wasn’t suggesting it to mold you more to his liking.

“Nothing wrong with it at all. You have great taste and I just want to spoil you,” he said, running a finger down your side. This was the man who let you go into his exclusive club wearing a dressed down outfit simply because it was you, so he’d probably let you get away with any sort of wardrobe you wanted. “Do you know how ravishing you look right now?”

“I’m not ravishing. I’m in my work clothes,” you muttered.

“You are ravishing,” he said, moving his finger back up as you shivered. “We should get some stargazer lilies for your first night in our home. I could strip you down, lay you out on our bed, and brush one of the petals along your skin.”

You inhaled sharply and closed your eyes, trying not to picture him spreading you out on a luxurious bed. He would say something like that when he was right in your space and you had nowhere to go. The man went from zero to sixty in seconds. No doubt he could feel you tremble and knew your heart was racing.

“Bet it’ll feel soft against your nipples,” he whispered, exhaling against your ear. “And your pussy.”

Your next breath was shallow, but you managed not to whimper. “Where are we going shopping?” You asked evenly, hoping to get to the destination sooner rather than later.

You stubbornly kept your eyes shut when he chuckled. “You’re changing the topic because you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Worried you’ll get your panties soaked before we get to the shop?” He questioned, your heart thudding. You didn’t want to think about it at all. You wanted out of the car so you could properly breathe again. “I’m sorry. I’m not playing nice, am I? We’re going to one of your favorite stores and you can pick out whatever you want.”

You’d no doubt look at the price tags out of habit since you shopped on a budget and bought your nicer pieces on sale. “Do you ever really play nice?” You asked, opening your eyes. “One moment you’re being vulnerable and talking about your family and the next time I see you you’re talking about sleeping with me. I’m shocked the whiplash hasn’t scrambled my brain.”

The image of him destroying the utensil at lunch like it was nothing flashed in your mind for some reason. And him and his gang beating up John. Just how strong was he? Was he a killer?

“Sometimes we’ll talk about something tough or serious and the next it may be something more fun or intimate. That’s part of being in a relationship,” he said. If only it were an authentic relationship. “I want that with you, telling you what’s on my mind and how I feel.”

If he cared about what was on your mind or how you felt, he’d back off and let you have a bit of space. “Relationships are built on mutual respect and trust,” you said. Did he not see that the mutual respect wasn't there since he pushed for things to be his way? And trust was something he couldn't force no matter how powerful he was.

“I understand that. You also said a first date was getting to know each other and seeing if there's a mutual connection. I'm opening up to you, letting you get to know me. I’m getting to know you, too, beyond the things I knew in advance,” he said. What was he learning about you that he didn’t already know? “And you can't tell me you don't feel something for me.”

“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, Bucky? That I want you and want to be with you?” You asked. Even if you did develop feelings for him, it would have to be classified as some form of stockholm syndrome. And even then, strong feelings wouldn’t be enough. He wanted everything from you. “That I don’t want anyone else?”

The hand along your side crept up to your neck, tension heightening when he gently squeezed. He loved putting his hand around your throat. “You do want me, you do want to be with me, you’ll never want anyone else once I have you and I know you love how much I want you,” he spoke with confidence, like he could make the words come true as you took your next breath. “Should I check your panties before we go inside and feel how wet they are?”

You needed to distract him. Fight him. Do something. “What’s your love language?” You blurted out. “Physical Touch?”

“What?” He whispered, your heart still pounding when he slowly moved his hand away from your throat.

“Your love language. You constantly touch me when I’m close to you, so I guessed Physical Touch,” you explained. He always had a hand on you.

He sat back with a pensive look. “No one has ever asked me that.”

“Oh,” you said as the car rolled to a stop. You blindly reached for the door handle. “Well, it’s something to think about if you don’t know.”

He held your arm when you tried to get out. “You express yourself through Acts of Service with loving gestures and helping with tasks, but what you crave is Quality Time because you value meaningful interactions and connecting with people on a more personal level.”

You nodded slowly. It was why you loved hanging out with your girlfriends. You cherished making memories with them.

“You also appreciate Words of Affirmation, even if compliments make you feel uncertain because you sometimes feel overlooked. The combination of those languages makes you feel seen and heard,” he continued, giving you a tender smile. “I can hear and see you if you let me.”

You found yourself unable to speak as he gauged your reaction, your throat tight as if gripped by an unseen force. He nailed it right on the head about your love languages, didn't he? “I need air,” you whispered, letting yourself out of the car once he let you go.

The tightness in your throat moved to your heart. Bucky saw and heard you in his own way, didn't he? Not just as a passing thought but because he genuinely believed he loved you, deeply and wholeheartedly. The more he sank his fangs in, the more venom he injected. You had to be your own antidote.

With a shake of your head, you glanced up at the shop. True to his word, it was one you loved. Another piece of yourself that would now be tied to him.

You jumped when Bucky appeared beside you and took your arm. “You okay?” He asked, studying your face with gentle eyes.

“Just fine,” you replied, smiling for his sake. “Let's go shopping.”

You walked into the boutique together, the air filled with a subtle mix of lavender and something sweet that made you feel right at home. The space was a blend of trendy and rustic, exuding charm and intimacy. Clothes lined the wooden shelves and vintage racks, showcasing a variety of styles that ranged from casual to bold. Delicate accessories sparkled in the soft light, inviting you to explore.

You could easily find the perfect dress for the winery here.

“Hello! Welcome to… Oh! Mr. Barnes,” the associate smiled, her heels clicking on the floor. She was a picture perfect example of style and beauty. “I have the back dressing room set up and I’ll be sure no one disturbs you or your girlfriend. It was sundresses you requested, correct?”

Bucky looked proud of himself. “Yes, the perfect sundress for my girl,” he smiled, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “And whatever dress you choose, you’ll need jewelry. Oh, and a clutch.”

“Girlfriend?” You asked. He must not have wanted a repeat of how the hostess treated the two of you at lunch. “Wait, you already have dresses selected for me to try on?”

“He called and gave us all the details. And we’ll make sure you have everything you need,” the associate promised as Bucky nudged you ahead of him to follow her. Was anyone else in the shop? “Would either of you like a water?”

“No thank you,” you said. You were never offered a water when you shopped there before, but you were never there with Bucky Barnes.

“Just let me know if you need anything at all,” she smiled, opening the dressing room door.

Bucky thanked her as he took a seat in one of the chairs across from the door, watching you expectantly. “If you don't like any of them, we can go somewhere else.”

“I’m sure they're fine,” you said, going into the room and shutting the door before he could say anything else.

Quickly slipping off your shoes, pants, and top, you turned your attention to a small rack with a range of sundresses. Checking each tag as you pushed through them, none of them on sale, it wasn't a surprise that they were all your size. And all something you'd consider wearing. After flipping through the dresses twice, you decided to try on a sleeveless white dress with small rosebuds. It would be nice for a vineyard.

Before you could put the dress on, the door opened. “Need any help?” Bucky asked as you spun around in your bra and underwear, his eyes slowly scanning your body before you had a chance to cover yourself.

“No. I…” you trailed off as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he breathed your name, want written all over his face. The dressing room felt small. Hot. You could hardly breathe as panic threatened to overwhelm you. And you couldn't do anything but step back as he stepped closer, a predator ready to capture his prey.

Your back hit the mirror when he brought a hand to your chin, your knees shaking as he leaned in. “You’re right about one thing,” he said in a husky tone. “I do crave Physical Touch. Yours.”

He pressed his lips to yours, keeping you still and giving you no chance to turn your head away. It was a light, feathering sort of kiss before his tongue flicked out to trace your lips. He teased you until you opened up for him and allowed his tongue to sweep into your mouth. You couldn't think as he groaned and continued his claim. It was only a matter of time until he claimed you completely.

Bucky pulled away a little, his free hand moving down your torso in a possessive path. “Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he rasped. You felt so small, your insides both frozen and melting from his touch. “Just wanna take you home and make you ride my face before I fuck you.”

You gasped when his knee moved between your legs, your hands flying up to hold his arms. He rocked his leg and you felt power in the motion, a promise of what was to come once he had you where he wanted you. “Bucky,” you whispered. The next word out of your mouth was smothered by his lips, but he didn't increase the urgency in his kisses. He took his time. Like the world could be burning around you and he’d let the flames take over as long as he was kissing you.

You bit back a whimper when he rocked his knee harder, the friction sending heat to your core. Another roll of his body and you were certain you felt the outline of his cock. Bringing a hand to his chest, you lightly pushed. It was already going too far. To your surprise, he broke the kiss. His eyes were still hungry though. “You said you want to hear me?” You asked breathlessly, your lip trembling when his thumb brushed it. “Then not here, please,” you whispered, praying he'd stop.

If he was going to have you, it wouldn't be in a dressing room.

“Right. Not for our first time.” He tipped his head back as he took a breath, no doubt trying to control himself. “Just one more kiss, Kotyonok. One more for me to dream about tonight,” he groaned, bringing his face back to yours for one more kiss with fervor. Just when you thought it would turn more ravenous, he shifted to something soft, tender. A feeling that had both of you shaking when it ended, but likely for different reasons.

You stayed upright when he stepped back and gave you space, but your legs still shook as he straightened up his clothes and looked you over once more. If he could devour you with a look... “Thank you.” He actually listened to you and didn't push it any further.

He glanced down as he adjusted his pants and you tried to avoid looking at the tent he began to sport. Horror filled you when your gaze went lower to the wet spot by his knee. He hadn't gotten you off, but you both knew he sparked some arousal within you. “Can’t wait ‘til you really make a mess on my pants,” he smirked, walking out just as quietly as he entered the tiny room.

Fighting back tears once he shut the door, you touched your lips. Bucky finally kissed you. Your mouth still tingled. You still felt him there.

Glancing at the rack of dresses, you wished he really was a sweet boyfriend trying to spoil you just because he could. But he hadn't given you a chance to pick them out yourself. He spoke for you, like you were a doll. It was just another piece he put in place for his twisted puzzle of your relationship.

What was wrong with you?

You pulled your clothes back on and flung the door open so hard it almost hit the wall. Bucky’s smug look immediately changed to concern when you walked out holding a sundress. “This one's fine,” you said in a flat tone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, sitting up more in his chair. “You didn't try it on, did you?”

“It’s the one I want,” you said, calling for the associate before Bucky had a chance to argue. You gave her a stiff smile when she joined you and handed over the garment, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you. “Whatever jewelry and handbag you think will go with this, I’ll take it. I trust your judgment.”

“Oh, this dress is lovely and we have the perfect accessories for this. Would you like to look at shoes as well? Or maybe something to go with any of the other dresses?” She asked, her eyes wide as you brushed past her. “Miss?”

“I’m sorry. I need to step outside,” you said, not wanting to be rude to her.

Bucky called after you, but you ignored him. You were furious with yourself. You let him kiss you and allowed some of his words to get under your skin. He didn't fuck you, but he still won, didn't he? And you were letting him. Just like with everything else.

You took two steps out of the shop before you felt a grip on your arm. “Woah. Slow down,” Bucky said, turning you to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.

“It doesn't matter, but if you really want to see and hear me, please, pay attention,” you said, yanking your arm away. “I want to go home.”

“Why? Is it because that kiss meant something to you and you don't want to admit it?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “If you're embarrassed that it made you wet, don't be. I'm flattered. Besides, it got me hard.”

Heat filled your cheeks and you wanted to smack him. There was a fine line between the delusion he had in his head and the reality of the situation. The tightrope you were walking was close to snapping. “I’m not embarrassed. I can't breathe.” You stepped back, trying to give yourself space. Was Ray watching from the car? “Everything in my life recently has revolved around you or you being there. Say what you want about me being lonely, it doesn't give you an excuse to take over.”

Bucky’s smile slipped, like he was really seeing how bothered you were. “I told you I just want to love you. And you enjoy Quality Time.”

“Quality Time when we agree upon it. And love itself should be the thing to take my breath away, not you smothering me,” you gently stated.

“I’m not trying to smother you.” He shifted like he was the one uncomfortable, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I… I know you can't breathe,” he said, lifting a hand as if to reach out before he dropped it and took a deep breath. “That’s why I'm leaving you alone tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You're what?” You asked in disbelief, catching the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as his shoulders dropped. He hadn't left you alone since he broke in. Why in the world would he stop now?

“I was going to bring it up when I dropped you off.” His hand worked its way through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking and… I’m smothering you. I know I am. Rearranging your schedule, making you meet my friends, and everything else. So…” He reached for you this time and took your hand. “I’m giving you a breather and I’m not going to be around tomorrow. No surprise visits. No calls. Maybe a text, but nothing more.”

You blinked. “So, we won't see each other tomorrow?” You tried not to get too excited. It was only a day, but between that and the girls day that was still something. You had to go the cautiously optimistic route again and take what you got.

But you also couldn't help but wonder why he was really giving you that space. Did Ray or someone say something to him? Was this another ploy to keep you in line?

“You won't see me. God knows I’ll miss you, but it's just a day, right?” He squeezed your hand. “Maybe you’ll miss me, too.”

“I appreciate you giving me that space,” you said sincerely. He needed that space, too, even if he didn't believe it. “And maybe I will.”

“We won't have to miss each other much longer once we're together in the penthouse,” he said, his tone soft and your heart sinking. “Will you answer one thing: Did that kiss mean something to you?”

You didn't want to answer that. If you denied it, it would be a lie or he’d either see through it or snap. If you confirmed it, it would feed him more hope. You still had to examine your feelings because you were afraid and you couldn't think with him staring at you with those longing eyes.

“It meant something,” you answered, not expanding on what exactly it meant when he exhaled. It wasn't smart to let him decipher it how he wished because he could use it against you later.

He took your breath away once more when he pulled you close and brushed his lips against yours. Just as quickly as he started, he stopped and brushed his nose against yours. Any passerby would think it was a sweet moment between a couple making up from an argument. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb moving along the racing pulse in your wrist. “Come back inside, please? Pick out a few things for real and then I’ll take you home so you can relax.”

You remembered that the bugs were still in your apartment, which took some more of your enthusiasm away. But if Bucky was really going to leave you alone tomorrow, you’d have to appreciate the time to yourself. Maybe you could pack a bag and get out of the city even sooner than planned.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right? What was the worst that could happen? Making him freak out over your safety? That could be bad.

“Okay. A few things for real and then home,” you agreed.

“That’s my girl.” He turned and paused at the door with a smile. “Can I at least help you try on the dress? Or you can model it for me and I'll tell you how beautiful you are.”

You smiled back a little. “Don't push your luck,” you said, missing the pair of blue eyes that watched you and Bucky go back into the shop.

So, a little bit of action. 😏 Will it be enough to tide Bucky over? Is he really going to leave you alone for a day? Who was watching you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[halfwayhearted]

I Miss You — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You missed Spencer a lot while he was away on a case, and you both can’t wait to share the same bed again.

Word Count: 570+

Disclaimer/s — Established relationship, and fluff!

A/N: SEASON 4 SPENCER REID, YOU ARE SO DEAR TO ME. Is clingy!spencer canon or nah… just let me know. Lmk.

It was late. Literally ‘three in the morning’ type late. But you couldn’t sleep. You just couldn’t.

Not when you received that anticipated message informing you that your boyfriend was finally on his way home after an entire week spent away on a case. To pass the time and keep your… thrill in check, you immersed yourself in various small tasks—washing dishes, doing laundry, and even catching up on some reading. Anything that would keep you occupied and awake, ensuring you were ready and waiting for Spencer’s arrival.

You were engrossed in your book when the sound of the door unlocking and opening reached your ears. Instantly, you jerked upright, a bright smile spreading across your face as if it were second nature. Whipping your head around to look, your eyes were met with the sight of the tall brunette.

“You’re home!” You chirped, rising to your feet.

Spencer’s tired gaze finds you, “I’m home. Why are you awake? It’s three-forty in the morning.”

Making your way toward him, you help him shrug off his coat and messenger bag, hanging both on the rack beside you. “I missed you,” was all you had uttered, placing a small peck to his lips.

The second you pull away, he leans in once again for another. Giving him exactly that, you look up at him with a smile, asking, “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head, “Nope. ‘M just tired.”

“Sleep it is,” you countered, “I did laundry, too.”

“You didn’t have to do that. But, thank you.”

Your smile widens as you start to turn away, his eyebrows furrow and he gently grasps your elbow, making you look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Spencer’s voice is quiet when he replies, “Are you not coming to bed with me?”

Oh, you could’ve crumbled right then and there.

And… well, you do!

“Right. Yes, I am. Let me just turn off the lights.”

“Oh,” the man nods slowly, “I’ll go change.”

You let out a soft hum, “Mhm, you go do that.”

After he turns away and enters your shared bedroom, you do what you said you would. You grab your book, close it properly, and set it on the coffee table before flickering off all the lights.

Making your way to the bedroom, Spencer is about to exit, and you find yourself face-to-face with him, which makes you tilt your head and laugh. “What’re you doing? Did you forget—”

He interjects sheepishly, “Went to go get you.”

A loving smile graces your lips at that, and you guide the both of you toward the bed. Climbing into it, you watch how he lifts the covers and slides under them, facing you. You do the same, brushing one of his loose strands away from his eyes. “I really like this hair. Long hair suits you.”

“Does my short hair do the opposite?” He teased.

“Hey, no. I think you look good with any hair,” you start, a short, silent moment passing. “However, I do think this hair specifically might take the win.”

Spencer acknowledges your answer, moving his hand to tenderly grab your own, his thumb rubbing back and forth against the pulse of your wrist while you feel your eyes fluttering shut.

You loved this man more than you thought was possible, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri ! ౨ৎ

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:04」 — y.jeonghan

» seventeen menu | jeonghan menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ oni!Jeonghan × fem!Reader wc: 5.3k summary: Speed dating never was Y/N’s thing but lucky for her, she just so happened to meet someone worthwhile. He asked her on a proper date which developed into a relationship. After a regular date night, Jeonghan asks Y/N if he can try something new in the bedroom. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mention of alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food/drink consumption, coffee; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to the reblogs join my taglists! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this one was going to be much different but sometimes, the story writes itself. i don't have much else to say so enjoy this piece for kinktober and hbd to Jeonghan! thank you for reading! the next part is Mingyu so stick around for that! as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), deepthroating (f receiving), bulge kink, use of pet names (baby, angel, sweetheart, etc), unprotected sex (use protection pls), oral (m receiving), Jeonghan has a huge d!ck, and I think I got all of it but of course, tell me if I missed any. kinks: Bulge kink + deepthroatingdialogue prompt: ❛❛ I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already wet. ❜❜

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Dating in this day and age had always been difficult for you. 

When your friend, Voxx, first suggested speed dating, you laughed it off as a ridiculous notion, not wanting to resort to something you deemed so impersonal. Your friend reassured you that it wasn’t that bad and that they had met their partner during a speed date. 

“No, I get that,” you said as you leaned back against their couch, a glass of wine in your hand as they sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I didn’t put much stock in meeting someone on a speed date but Michael has been great and I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

You nodded, taking a sip from your glass. “Besides,” Voxx continued after taking a sip of their own glass. “How else do you expect to meet anyone? You never approach anyone at the bar, you hardly speak to anyone outside our friend group except for your coworkers,” they added, giving you a knowing look. You narrowed your eyes before lowering your gaze to your glass.

“You have a point.” 

Voxx smirked, taking another sip of wine. “It’s really not that bad and if you do get someone truly awful, you don’t have to worry about being stuck with them for very long,” they explained. “You only get a few minutes, maybe ten at most.” You nodded silently as you turned their words over in your head.

“Come on,” your friend whined. “You never know who you might meet!”

You sighed, looking up from your glass. “Fine,” you said when you saw the pleading look in their eyes. “I will attend but if it ends disastrously, I’m blaming you,” you added, pointing at them before downing the rest of your wine right as the timer on the oven went off, signaling dinner was ready and it was time for more wine.

Voxx promised to sign you up for the event, taking care of everything but sending the questionnaire for you to look over and fill out. You emailed it back to the event coordinator who was beyond excited that you were attending. Your friend told you they often hosted these events and was always this ecstatic.

The night of the event, you raided your closet, settling on a simple cream colored blouse with a small keyhole cut just above the bust. You paired it with a dark brown skirt, nude colored stockings, and a pair of stylish but comfortable heels in case you would be doing a lot of standing or walking. Grabbing your beige long wool coat to brave the elements, you were ready.

It was a Saturday afternoon which is why you chose to dress in the color palette you did. An evening event would have seen you in a much more extravagant cocktail dress and your red bottom heels you saved for special occasions.

You took the train into the city, getting off at the appropriate stop and making your way to the address provided by the coordinator which turned out to be a bookstore and cafe. You entered through the front door, greeting the cashier who then pointed you to the private room in the back. The main room of the coffee shop was rather large with couches, arm chairs, and tables placed throughout the shop. 

Every wall that didn’t have a window or doorway had a bookshelf lined with books, all separated by genre and organized by author name. It was very organized and tidy. You walked through the open doorway into another, smaller room with love seats, coffee tables, armchairs with a small end table between them. It was the perfect set up and away from prying eyes.

You saw that you were one of the first participants to show up and caught the eye of the coordinator. You only knew who she was because of the picture your friend had shown you. She walked over, smiling warmly at you as she approached. “You must be Y/N,” she said, holding your hand out. Up close, you noticed she had striking red eyes, pointed fangs, and her nails were unusually long and sharp.

As you took her hand, you felt her skin was cold to the touch and it dawned on you that you were now face to face with a vampire. “Uh,” you said, realizing she was waiting for you to answer. “Yes. I’m Y/N,” you replied. She smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Lucia,” she said. 

You thanked her, forcing a smile as you shook hands. “We’re waiting for the rest of the participants to show up but if you’d like to go grab a coffee and browse the books, feel free. We don’t start for another twenty minutes,” she added, pulling out a pocket watch — because of course she did — to check the time. You thanked her once more, looking past her at the other people in the room.

You noticed nonhuman features, inhuman eye and hair colors but also some that looked entirely ordinary. As you walked out of the room to go up to the counter, you saw a woman sporting yellow eyes with vertical slits and bits of scaly skin peeking out from under her hairline, you realized what you’d signed up for, letting out a small groan of frustration.

You quickly composed yourself as you approached the counter and ordered a simple caramel macchiato, paying and stepping aside to pay. As you waited, you pulled out your phone, shooting a quick text to Voxx, conveying your frustration.

You: YOU SIGNED ME UP FOR A MONSTER LOVERS SPEED DATING EVENT?!

Voxx’s response was instantaneous.

Voxx: I thought you might like to give it a try since your track record with humans hasn’t exactly been that great. You: a heads up would have been nice 😒 Voxx: if I had told you it was a monster lover speed dating event beforehand, would you have still gone? You: …no Voxx: exactly. Now stop texting me, put your phone on silent and enjoy the event! (:

You grumbled to yourself as you did just that, putting your phone on silent and slipping it into your pocket as the barista called out your name, setting your coffee on the counter. With your macchiato in hand, you perused the bookshelves, finding several old novels, settling on grabbing one of your favorites, Carmilla. 

With the book in hand, you returned to the back private room, moving to sit in one of the armchairs while you waited for the rest of the participants to arrive. Among the ones you'd already seen there were a couple more newer faces.

You kept count as the room slowly filled until there were a total of 19 bodies not including the hostess. There were 10 humans including yourself and 9 humanoids ranging from demons to reptilians and you were sure there was even the odd werecreature. The numbers were uneven though, which you thought odd unless there was meant to be one person without a match each round.

You saw Lucia look around and check her pocket watch once more before getting up and moving to the front of the room. She cleared her throat before smiling, looking around at the guests.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted. “And welcome to the annual Unconventional Couple's Speed Dating Event.” A light, scattered applause rang throughout the room, soft but noticeable. 

“Each year, my partner and I host this event to help humans and non-humans come together and meet in a safe environment without the judgment of others,” Lucia explained in a clear calm voice, her warm smile ever present on her lips.

“My partner, Greg, and I met 9 years ago by sheer coincidence and it was practically love at first sight. We decided after being together for four years that we wanted to help others like us meet and potentially find their match.”

As you sipped your coffee, you listened to Lucia's speech. It wasn't as if you were uninterested in dating a monster, it just wasn't something you'd put much thought into before. 

A loud bang rang out, making you jump in your seat along with several others and you turned your head in the direction of the sound to see a tall, and rather attractive, man bent over, nursing his knee. He'd run into one of the end tables by the door upon entering.

He looked up, his paint expression melting instantly when he realized he had all eyes in the room on him. He stood up straight, grimacing as he walked further into the room. “Sorry,” he whispered, moving quickly to take the empty armchair by yours.

Several of the others sent icy glares in his direction before returning their attention back to Lucia who started to speak again, going over the rules of the event. Your attention waned as the man in the armchair next to you shifted in his seat.

“If looks could kill,” he muttered. You threw a glance his way, noticing he was staring past you. His eyes shifted, meeting yours and you knew instantly, he was not a regular man.

He had brown eyes that seemed to glow slightly which bordered on uncanny territory for you. From this close proximity, you could see that he was even more attractive than you previously thought.

He had a medium golden skin tone with reddish brown hair, strands falling into his eyes. From between strands of hair, two small dark brown horns peeked out, the tips rounded into nubs.

He wore a white button down under a caramel colored sweater with dark brown fitted pleated pants and black oxfords. Over the entire ensemble, he wore a light cream colored long coat with brown buttons and a sash that hung untied.

He nodded pointedly past you, bringing you back to reality. You turned, following his gaze to find a pair of icy blue eyes staring at the two of you before turning away to look at Lucia. You turned to look at the man once more. His gaze met yours and he smiled, giving you a wink before he turned his attention to the front of the room.

After explaining the rules, Lucia had ten participants, half the humans and half the nonhumans, sit while the remaining half would be the roaming half. It worked out that all humans sitting would be paired with nonhumans and vice versa.

You were lucky enough to be included in the group that was seated, removing your coat and draping it over your seat as Lucia passed out cards with a list of potential questions to ask. You looked over the card, chuckling to yourself at the logo. You read over the questions, rereading them a few times so you wouldn’t have to keep looking at the card.

Lucia then explained you would have up to ten minutes with your date before the timer went off. You were the second to last in the rotation of human females. The first nonhuman to sit in the armchair next to you was a werewolf named Liam. He was nice enough but he had some rather interesting ideas about his ideal family that you weren’t entirely on board with.

As he got up and moved to the next station, the man from before sat down, smiling at you as he settled back in the chair. “Well, hello again,” he said softly, grinning broadly at you. “Hi,” you said holding back a chuckle as you set your almost empty macchiato down on the table.

“I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier,” he said. “I’m Jeonghan.” You looked up as he held out a hand. You took it, shaking his hand. “Y/N,” you replied. “So uh, tell me Jeonghan,” you started, clearing your throat and glancing at the cards.

“What color would you say best describes your personality?”

Jeonghan’s smile widened as he let out a low laugh. “Color?” he asked. “Maybe a nice deep red. Like a merlot,” he said, smirking at you. “What about you? Any color out there to let me get an idea of who you are?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. “Purple,” you answered quickly.

“Purple? Is that like an eggplant or —”

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Like a bright, vibrant, almost neon purple.”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows shot up as he looked you over. “Neon purple?” he asked. “You?” You nodded, holding back a smile. “You look more like a baby pink. Pastels,” he said as he straightened up. You laughed to yourself, nodding as you looked down. “You should see me at night,” you replied.

“Is that an invitation?” 

You lifted your head to look at him. His smirk had grown, looking even more mischievous as time went on. You found yourself holding his gaze. His eyes were so beautiful and there was something behind them that drew you in but you couldn’t place it. He was overall mesmerizing.

“We only have like five minutes left,” he said suddenly, drawing you from your trance. “Right, you said, glancing down at the card again. Your mind seemed to go blank whenever he opened his mouth. It was unlike you and an entirely new experience but it was one you were liking.

“What are you most passionate about?” you asked, reading from the card.

“Sex. Next,” Jeonghan answered, making you choke on your spit. He laughed as you picked up your drink and sipped, trying to quell your cough. “I’m kidding,” he added as you managed to subdue your coughing fit. “That was supposed to make you laugh. Not potentially kill you.”

You waved your hand, dismissing his concern. “I’m fine,” you gasped, setting your cup down. “I’m passionate about food,” he said as you regained your composure. “Food?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded. “I love food. Good food is important to me.”

“Okay,” you said, shifting in your seat to face him properly. “Your friends are coming over for dinner, what are you cooking?” you asked. Jeonghan smiled as he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “What friends?” he joked.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you said, giving in to his teasing. “Do you snore?” Jeonghan asked abruptly,” you looked up at him, alarmed. “What?” you asked. “Do you snore?” he asked again. You stared at him silently for a few minutes before answering. “Only when I’m sick,” you said, looking down at the card once more.

“Do you have any party tricks?”

Your question made Jeonghan laugh loudly. “Take me to dinner first,” he said with a wink. Your cheeks burned as you met his gaze. The line itself was enough to have you flushing but the wink just added an extra amount of cheese to it.

You glanced down once more but Jeonghan leaned forward, grabbing the card out of your hand and sat back as you looked up at him. He crumpled the card in his hand, giving you another mischievous grin. “Ask me something off the top of your head,” he said softly, cocking his head to the right.

Your mind went blank as you stared at him. Being put on the spot like this made you nervous as hell. ‘What could I possibly ask him?’ your mind went reeling as you tried to grasp for something to ask. Jeonghan checked his watch, glancing up at you. He made a soft ticking sound, as if to try and pressure you into asking a random question. One that wasn’t printed on the card.

“I am so sorry,” you said softly. “My mind is completely blank.” Jeonghan chuckled as he set the crumpled up card on the table. “That’s alright,” he said, picking up his coffee and downing the rest of it as the timer went off, signaling that 10 minutes had passed.

You felt your heart sink. You didn’t want the time with him to end. He got up and grabbed his coat before he leaned over as the participants started to move to the next station. “When the next round ends, meet me outside. This is boring as hell and you are most certainly not,” he whispered in your ear before standing up, giving you another wink with a smile before he turned and headed for the last date as your third one sat down. 

The third round wasn’t nearly as entertaining or interesting as Jeonghan had been. He was a shapeshifter named Kai and he was nice, much nicer than Liam, but he was also quite awkward. When the round finally ended, you felt relief wash over you.

Lucia stood at the front of the room, calling for everyone’s attention.

“Now that we’re finished, I’d like you to fill out the back of the card I gave you and write down the names of the participants you’d like to meet again,” she said. “And afterwards, if you’ll stick around, we have a few ice breaker games to get to know everyone a bit more.” 

You looked around as everyone flipped over their cards and started writing. You grabbed your wrinkled one and picked up the pen before writing down one name only: Jeonghan.

Looking up, you saw Jeonghan get up, walk up to Lucia and slip the card into a small box on a table next to her. You saw him briefly exchange words with her before he turned and started for the door. He met your gaze, sending you a wink before he disappeared out the doorway into the main area.

Following your instincts,” you got up and walked up to Lucia. She smiled as you slipped the card into the box. “Are you going to be staying for the ice breaker games?” she asked, sounding hopeful. You forced a smile, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you replied. “I actually had something come up. Family emergency.” Lucia smiled politely. “Of course,” she replied, nodding understandingly.

“Thank you again.” you added. “This was a very informative experience.” You exited the room, returning your book to the shelf and dropping your used mug off at the counter.

Once you were back outside, you looked up and down the sidewalk, hoping to see Jeonghan standing nearby but you didn’t see him anywhere. You felt your heart sink, wondering if you’d taken too long as you continued to look around.

You walked towards the edge of the sidewalk, looking on the opposite side to see if maybe Jeonghan had crossed over. You were getting more and more dejected as you didn’t see him anywhere. You sighed, hoping that Lucia would at least be able to pair you up as you turned and started down the street towards the bus station.

“There you are,” a voice said from behind you. Turning, you saw Jeonghan walking out of the coffee shop and waited as he jogged lightly to catch up. “Thought you had taken off,” he said as he matched your pace, tucking his hands in his coat pockets. You smiled as you walked along. “I thought the same actually,” you said, making him chuckle.

You walked in silence for a few minutes until he skipped ahead, moving to stand in front of you just as you reached the bus stop. “Alright,” he started. “So, I’m sure you wrote my name down. I wrote yours down and only yours,” he added. “So how about we skip the middle and I take you out tonight?” he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat as a smile spread across your face. “Okay,” you said softly, feeling suddenly shy. Jeonghan snorted. “Well, jeez,” he started jokingly. “Don’t go jumping for joy. Wouldn’t want you to die from excitement.” You laughed, playfully swatting at him. “I’d love to,” you replied.

Jeonghan smiled, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Then let’s not wait for Lucia to do her thing,” he said, unlocking the screen and tapping away. “We can just exchange numbers now.” You quickly pulled your phone out and pulled up a new contact as Jeonghan held out his phone. You exchanged with him, typing in your name and number, adding a purple heart emoji.

When you had your phone back in your hands, you read his contact card. His name had the red ogre emoji next to it with the sunglasses smiley face. You shot him a quick text before pocketing your phone. “So what time were you thinking?” you asked, looking up at him as he checked his phone before slipping it back into his coat pocket.

“How about seven?” he asked. “And if you don’t want me to know where you live, let’s just meet there, yeah?” he asked. You nodded. “Meet where?” you asked. Jeonghan nodded towards your pocket. “I sent you the address. It’s a restaurant I love and I’d like to actually share it with someone.”

You pulled out your phone, looking at the notification. You would look it up later to make sure it was actually a restaurant. You trusted that Lucia would vet all the participants pretty well but you could never be too certain. “So, I’ll see you at seven?” he asked as the bus pulled to the stop.

You pulled out your bus pass as the doors opened, several passengers getting off. “Seven,” you agreed, looking back at him with a smile before getting onto the bus, scanning your pass and taking a seat. You waved at him as he stood on the sidewalk. He waved back, smiling as the bus started to roll forward and soon he was out of view as the bus continued down the street.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and fished it out, checking your messages.

Jeonghan👹😎: you’re really pretty (:

You chuckled as you typed a response back.

You: so are you ;)

Jeonghan’s reply was instant.

Jeonghan👹😎: see you at seven, beautiful

One date with Jeonghan turned into two which turned into a third and after a few weeks, you were dating pretty regularly. Lucia had contacted the both of you a few days after the speed dating event to inform you that you had both selected each other and she passed on your contact details but you already had exchanged them.

Your regular dates turned into something romantic and sexual after a couple months and by the third month, you had agreed to be exclusive. You really liked Jeonghan. He was smart, funny, charming, and a little bit annoying but you liked his teasing.

On the surface, he liked to joke around, tease, and play pranks but under that silly exterior was an extremely caring, loving, and passionate person. You learned on the fourth or fifth date that Jeonghan was an oni. You knew from the start that he wasn’t human but that didn’t bother you in the slightest. If anything, it made him much more alluring and added to his appeal.

You’d never truly considered dating any monsters before but now that you had, you were certain you probably wouldn’t ever date human men again. Your past with dating had been turbulent and rocky to say the least but ever since meeting Jeonghan, things had been so much easier. Your relationship with him seemed to come naturally to the both of you.

In the bedroom, things were beyond amazing. Jeonghan was neither pushy or hasty to make you do anything you didn’t want to. Sex with him was as easy as breathing. All you needed to get into the mood was some playful banter, a few light touches, and some whispered dirty words and you were putty in his hands. He was a skilled lover and you were never left unsatisfied.

After a date night out, you returned to your apartment, inviting Jeonghan in for a moment which you knew would turn into more if you played your cards right. 

“I’m never ordering that again,” Jeonghan said as you giggled, letting him into your apartment as you stood in the doorway. Once the door was shut, you moved to set your purse on the kitchen counter, fishing out your wallet and phone as Jeonghan walked up behind you. You felt his hands on your waist as he pressed into your backside.

“I like this dress on you,” he murmured, lips brushing against your exposed shoulder. “Yeah?” you asked softly, leaning back against him. He hummed in response, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder before you turned around in his hold, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. “I think the only thing that would be better is if you took it off,” he said, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

Your fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer as your lips parted, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You felt his fingers dig into your hips, pulling them flush against his. Pulling back slightly, you smirked as he tried to chase your lips. “Maybe you should take it off,” you whispered, nuzzling his nose. Jeonghan let out a groan, sliding his hand down to cup your ass before moving to pull your thigh up, pressing his clothed crotch into you.

“Bedroom,” he muttered, peppering kisses along your jaw. “Now.”

You did as he demanded, heading for the bedroom with him on your heels. Once inside, you heard the soft click of the door shutting as you turned on the bedside lamps. Jeonghan was on you in an instant, pulling at your dress, kissing your neck, littering your skin with love bites as he guided you towards the bed. “I’d like to try something new tonight,” he whispered between kisses.

His hands unzipped the side of your dress, hands moving up to slide the straps of your dress down your arms and letting the garment fall to the floor at your feet, leaving you in your lingerie and heels. “What’s that?” you asked as you stepped out of your dress, kicking it across the wood floor.

Jeonghan cupped the side of your neck just under your jaw. “Climb onto the bed,” he said softly. You glanced down at your feet. “My heels,” you started. Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Shit, right. Let me handle that.” he said, kneeling down to quickly remove your shoes one at a time. He tossed them aside, ignoring the clatter they made as they bounced across the wood.

“Now, sit on the bed,” he said, gently nudging you. You followed his instruction, sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking up at him as you waited for further instruction. Jeonghan leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips and cupping your cheek.

“You know I absolutely love it when you use your mouth,” he started softly. “And I love the way you do it but I’ve really wanted to fuck your mouth for a while now,” he continued. “I’d really like to try it, if you’ll let me.” You nodded, grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand over your face and kissing his palm. “And I promise to reward you,” he added. “Of course,” you answered. “I love trying out new things with you.”

Jeonghan leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. Standing up straight he pulled his tie loose, discarding it on the floor before undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one, keeping his eyes on you. He dropped the shirt to the floor, moving his hands to undo the zipper of his pants.

“Here,” you said, reaching out to grab him by the waistband of his pants.

You made quick work of his pants and underwear, pushing them down his thighs, revealing his already hard and leaking cock. You took him in your hand, opening your lips and taking the head into your mouth. Jeonghan let out a throaty groan, one hand moving to the back of your head.

You moved your head, bobbing and taking more and more of his cock into your mouth. You felt the tip hit the back of your throat as he thrust slightly, making a wet gagging sound. You pulled back, waiting a moment before resuming. 

You felt his grip on your head tighten as he pushed you further down. “Just a little more,” he groaned. “I know you can do it, sweetheart.” You obliged him, sinking his cock further into your mouth until you felt the head push into your throat. Jeonghan let out a loud moan, throwing his head back.

“Fuuuuck, baby,” he groaned, swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. He let out a shaky breath, lowering his gaze to look down at you. The hand on the back of your head moved up to the top, slightly tilting your head back. More of his cock sank into your throat at this angle.

He let out another strained moan as he felt your throat constrict around his cock. He moved his other hand down to your throat, fingers feeling the bulge of his cock in your throat. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “That’s so fucking hot.” He wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing slightly.

After a moment, he pushed your head back slowly, his cock slipping out of your throat.

Once freed, you pulled back, gasping as air filled your lungs. “You alright, baby?” he asked, gently caressing your cheek. You nodded, coughing slightly. “You okay to keep going?” he asked, his voice sounded full of concern. Again, you nodded. “Yeah,” you said. “M’Okay.” 

Regardless, Jeonghan gave you a few moments to recover your breath before letting you continue. “If you need to stop, just tap my thigh, okay?” he asked. You nodded, taking his cock in your hand, you stroked him quickly before taking the head back in your mouth, the weight of his cock heavy against your tongue.

Jeonghan’s hips thrusted forward, burying his cock further into your mouth. You removed your hand, moving your hands to his hips as he set a slow, steady pace. You kept your jaw lax, letting him fuck your mouth at his own pace. Each thrust made that same wet gagging sound at the back of your throat, filling the room with nothing but that sound.

His fingers curled into your hair, tightening his grip on your head as he guided you to move into his thrusts. “Fuck,” he groaned. “M’close.” He slowed to a stop, pulling his cock from your mouth. “Up,” Jeonghan ordered, holding his hand out for you to take. He pulled you up onto your feet before turning you to face the bed, pushing you onto it. He removed his pants quickly before cupping your sex.

“Holy shit,” he groaned. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already wet?” he asked. You whined, wiggling your hips. “Don’t tease me, Hannie.” He chuckled, moving to pull your panties down your thighs. “God, look how fucking wet you are. Fucking soaked,” he growled, fingers swiping through your folds before sinking into your cunt. You let out a moan as he slowly curled his fingers.

“Please, Jeonghan,” you whimpered. “Please fuck me.”

You heard him chuckle as he removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and cleaning them. “You sure you’re ready for me, angel?” You nodded eagerly. “Please,” you whined. “Please. I can take it.”

Jeonghan chuckled again, grabbing the base of his cock and gliding the tip between your folds, gathering your arousal before pushing the head into your slit, the warmth of your cunt welcoming him as he glided in, unrestricted. Each inch filled your walls, stretching you slowly to accommodate his size. “F-fuck,” you gasped as he bottomed out, tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

“So f-full,” you groaned. Jeonghan gave you a harsh thrust, making you cry out sharply. “You really sure you’re ready, my love?” Jeonghan asked, moving his hands to your hips. You nodded once more. “Yes,” you whined, feeling him retract slowly. “Please just fuck m-me!” you gasped as he snapped his hips forward, filling you in one, sharp thrust.

“Oh I plan to,” Jeonghan said softly. “You might wanna hold on, sweetheart,” he added.

“You’re in for a long night.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[tbaluver]

AfterCare With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

genre: overall fluff but contains nsfw and unprotected sex, MDNI

a/n: writing this only bc misty invasion is tomorrow and i cant wait dfkahdfkshfaskh did you guys noticed i changed the banners bc this one a diff genre hehe

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He doesn't stop giving you kisses when he cums inside you and would help you though the overstimulation by holding you tight until the feeling stops. He would ask if you we're okay and would listen if anything we're wrong.

He would fall on top of you and you both would be recollecting your breaths. He would be hiding against your chest and place little kisses all over them as you'll gently play with his hair. Once he pulls himself away from you, he'll grab you a cup of water so you're refreshed.

He would carry you to the bathroom and takes a bath with you because you probably can't stand after your activities. He would sit behind you and wash you softly and slowly while peppering your back and neck with soft kisses.

He'll put you first and make sure you're one hundred percent satisfied and content. He'll help dry you off and carry you back to bed and would dry himself off after before joining you.

Once your back together in bed, he would fall asleep so quickly with you nestled in his arms. You would hear his breathing go soft and quiet and you would soon fall asleep peacefully after.

Zayne:

He would immediately clean you up if he didn't cum inside of you. He wouldn't even ask and would get a refreshing cold drink of water and will ask after if you would like anything else.

While you drink your water, he'll prepare a bath for you both with the perfect temperature. Towels and nearby hygiene products would already be set on the counter. He would come back and ask how you would feel and he would listen intently to everything you had to say. He would carry you to the bathroom and let you soak up first before changing the sheets quickly.

Once he joins you, he'll wash your body and scrub the roots of your hair. Sometimes he'll apologize about the marks left on your skin, worried they might've hurt you. Once you're ready to get out of the bath, he'll pick you up and dry you himself and wrap you in a towel

He'll carry you back to the now clean and comfy bed and makes sure you're comfortable. He'll help you dress you up with whatever clothes you want that are comfortable.

Once your dressed all comfy, the two of you settled into the soft sheets and within minutes, you were already asleep in his arms. He watches you drift off to sleep as he ran his fingers through your hair softly. The comforting pressure of your body would soon make him fall asleep.

Rafayel:

You both were sprawled across the bed, limbs crossing over each other. You both turned to look at each other, looking over to see his contagious smile and you would feel one spreading over your own lips. Your hands would find each other and you both would wrap into a more comfortable embrace as you both tried to regain your breaths.

He'll crack a joke while he cradles you into his arms about how YOU should be the one to clean HIM up because he's the one that did most of the work. Obviously reassures you that he's joking.

He'll praise you, worship your body, comforting your sore legs and any body parts that felt sore or aching. He'd take special care of you to let you know how much you mean to him and thankful that he finally has you again.

He'll grab you a cup of water before preparing a nice relaxing bath for you both. He'll carry you to the bath and gently put you in before joining you. He'll help you wash you and you both might play a little bit in the water, splashing each other or playing with the bubbles before you both get out of the tub. He'll help dry you off and carry you back to bed.

As you the two of you settle into bed, he would make sure his arms are wrapped around you before you drift off to sleep. Will admire you for a bit before his eyes shut close.

After bath time was over and he carries you to bed, you would have to prepare for a second round. Obviously he's not done with you. He wants to paint your face white after he finished painting your pussy white a couple minutes ago.

Sylus:

He would intertwine his fingers with your own and slowly guides you over his chest so you're resting on top of him. He'll clean you off with a washcloth if he didn't already lick you clean and after he's done he'll grab you a cup of cold water.

If there were times where he was rough with you, he'll gently apply some oil and cooling gel onto any marks or any parts of your body that ached.

Draws you a bath with nice smelling soap or whatever you prefer. If you wanted some bubbles added to the bath, he'll add some even if he thought it was silly. He'll carry you to the bathroom and he'll sit behind you and hold you close to his chest. He'll rub the outside of your thigh because he knows they're most likely sore.

After you finish bathing, he'll help you get out of the tub and dry you off himself before he dries himself off. Would help brush your hair and give you of his shirts that are way too oversized on you before carrying you back to bed.

Would ask if you would like anything and if you did, he'll let you rest on the bed while he gets anything you need or wanted. And when you're falling asleep, you'll rest on his chest while he hums so softly.